


Notorious

by interestedbystander



Series: Notorious [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Motorcycle club, Smut, biker!Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23729317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interestedbystander/pseuds/interestedbystander
Summary: A stupid case of road rage leads you into the unlikely gaze of Bucky Barnes - ex. Army turned Sergeant-at-Arms for the infamous Avengers MC out of Brooklyn, USA. Lies, innuendo and the never-ending crescendo of “run, don’t walk” haunts you as he lures you into a life you never imagined you’d ever be swept in to. He’s the man your mother never bothered to warm you about because she thought she’d never have to ever tell you to stay away.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Notorious [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709167
Comments: 37
Kudos: 150





	1. Chapter 1

Still shaking as you stood outside the front of the police precinct, you took a few deep breaths to try and centre yourself. The adrenaline coursing through your veins since you and Bucky were pulled over hadn’t waned and you were scared it wouldn’t be much longer you fell in a heap on the sidewalk when your knocking knees eventually gave in.

In no way could you have ever imagined the evening end up the way it turned out. The last few hours seemed like an out of body experience – a hot date (God, he was sinfully hot), a little conversation (that was probably 99% fabrication in hindsight), a few drinks and you just threw yourself at Bucky Barnes: _outlaw_.

Then getting caught up in the drama of his arrest. Gee, that was a delight.

You were just collateral damage, the officers had explained. Bucky seemed to collect a lot of it, they added.

You had been texting a friend since your release, just to let someone (anyone) know that you were okay.

You _: They released me without charge. Just interviewed me, they clearly hadn’t seen someone so pathetic get caught up with this biker guy. Think they just felt bad for me for being so easily suckered in._

You _: This is, by far, the worst fucking date I’ve ever been on. You can quote me on that._

Amity _: Trust me when I say this, I won’t be forgetting about this in a hurry. I just can’t stop laughing. I’m so sorry!_

 _No, you aren’t,_ you realised. Taking a sharp intake of breath, it did nothing to ease the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. You felt like you’d been through the ringer. After watching Bucky’s arrest on the street, you were placed into a separate squad car and taken to a local precinct that buzzed with the thrill of potentially bringing in Barnes.

But you hadn’t seen him since he was cuffed and hauled off in the police car. He gave you a weak, apologetic shrug, chewing his bottom lip as the red and blue lights swirled around you, a crowd (and their cell phones) gathering to observe the scene. Bucky didn’t appear nervous, maybe just tickled at how his night had ended up. It was then you figured he was probably old hat in situations like this.

You hoped (and pleaded to yourself) that you would never have to see him again. You were questioned after a few hours in a lonely interview room, officers coming and going intermittently and it had made you feel even more ridiculous. Everything the police threw at you? You had absolutely no answer for. You were sure you looked like the human shrug emoji. They could tell you were swept up with the wrong guy who’d had probably sent a few nice lines your way, gave you some of that stony-blue eyed smoulder and you were done.

It felt cheap… but how right they were. You were just so embarrassed by the entire situation and it only made you angrier as you texted back.

_You: I’m glad my humiliation is so pleasing to you._

_Amity: I’m really sorry. Yes, you’ve had a shit night, I def agree. Do you want me to schlep to Brooklyn and pick you up?_

Sighing, you texted back that you had driven and declined her offer but fuck knew where you actually were – Brooklyn wasn’t your borough. You’d have to Google the street you’d parked on and it only seemed to add insult to injury. Sifting through your purse, you cursed. You’d taken your keys and phone from it while still inside and must have left them in there after you’d been allowed to leave.

“Goddamn it,” you said, stomping and turning heel to walk back in, moving as close to the wall as possible as a disgruntled gentleman burst out, yelling expletives angrily. About what, you didn’t catch nor did you care. Pushing through the doors in the precinct, you weren’t too surprised to see the officer that had allowed you leave only 15 minutes earlier coming your way, jingling your keys.

“I was taking a wild stab in the dark that you may still be outside,” she explained as you held out your hand and thanked her profusely. “It’s no worries. Want some free advice?”

 _Not really_ , you wanted to reply but shrugged meekly instead.

“You didn’t hear this from me, but that Barnes? He’s bad, bad news.”

This wasn’t the first time that you’d heard this warning tonight. Whilst in the interview room, another officer had commented on the DA’s inability to pin a few major crimes on him and the MC but his lawyer always managed to find them a credible alibi, a way out. “Yeah, so I see…” you murmured.

“And this may not be the last time you hear from him. I suggest you change your phone number. He’s not dangerous to you,” she tried to reassure you even if she was failing. “Not in the way he is about protecting the MC. But be smart. Keep your wits about you on the street, to and from work, any phone numbers that seem unfamiliar.”

“Gotta say, I actually feel like I’m in more danger leaving here than I did on the date,” you tried to joke. The adrenaline was fading fast and you leaned back against the wall to avoid dropping. You just wanted to get out as fast as you could, lock the doors behind you and hopefully wake up from this nightmare.

The woman smiled a thin line. “He’s the kind of guy your mother never dreamed of warning you about because she hopes and prays you never meet him, sweetheart.”

You blinked. You’d never heard the analogy before and it seemed so… appropriate. “Grim.”

“Yeah,” she huffed a laugh. “ _Grim_.”

You watched as she nodded before turning to leave. “Take care,” she called over her shoulder. 

. _..and there you go_ , you realised as your knees finally gave way and you slumped to the ground. Rubbing your tired eyes, all you wanted to do was get the fuck out of there as soon as possible… as soon as you could stand again, get some caffeine into you and find your _motherfucking_ car!

* * *

You couldn’t sleep – as exhausted as you were, rest just wouldn’t come. Your brain refused to stop attempting to process your night. Over and over, the fucking smirk of Barnes’ flooded your brain when you thought you were drifting off, only to wake you again with a start. The sun was starting to rise when you gave up on sleep and found yourself Googling all you could find on James Buchanan Barnes. His full name. Ex-US Army, the police continued.

It was shocking what you were able to round up on him and the MC.

Upon return from the Middle East, Barnes fell into the wrong crowd. You deduced his once-Army Captain, Steve Rogers, now the President the MC, got him hooked into the life and Bucky now found himself as Sergeant-At-Arms for The Avengers.

Seemed like a true fall from grace. So simplistic and even a little sad. But oft as these things are, it was anything but.

There was a lot of information online about various members (Rogers, Romanov and Wilson were names brought up frequently), court dates, crimes alleged against them. Drug rings, prostitution, violence, gun running. Some truly heinous things that scared you to the bone.

You made a mental note to change your phone number and the locks the next day. This wasn’t something you wanted to get yourself messed up in. Bucky Barnes was a bad, bad man.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a few weeks since your “date” with Bucky and its subsequent evening spent in an interview room - funny story, interview rooms are nothing like a bedroom, having mind-blowing sex with the resident bad boy. That sucked.

Life, more or less, went on as usual. You’d found yourself looking less and less over your shoulder but still got a chill when a motorbike zoomed through the traffic-heavy NYC streets, the rev of the engines ricocheting off the buildings to ear-piercing levels. Work took up your time and with a very limited social life, quiet evenings with a glass of wine were the norm and you were glad they had returned. You were always happy in your own company, with a book or watching some cheeky reality TV and a pizza box going cold on your side. chomping absent-mindedly through hours of nonsense.

Suddenly, the temptation of pizza was too great to resist and you picked up your phone and ordered from your local fave on the app. Delivery in 30 minutes, the app promised. Following ritual, it gave you more than enough time for a shower, jammies, uggs and prepare yourself to greet the pizza delivery kid with what was clearly your evening’s fairest. You kid. No one would appreciate this get up of a ratty Knicks t-shirt and well-oversized flannel PJ pants.

Truly. No one.

“Shit,” you muttered as you heard a rapping at the door as you were massaging in your moisturiser. Pizza was – you checked your watch - bizarrely right on time. Surprisingly. It’s never _right on time_ in this concrete jungle. Quicky rubbing the cream into your cheeks, you yelled out a “be right there!” before dashing for the door. Spying the peephole, you were right to believe it couldn’t have been your pizza as you unlocked the door and found a delivery kid of a different kind. “Think you got the wrong apartment, kiddo,” you told him simply.

“Ahhh… 5C?” he queried a little nervously, looking at the number on the door behind you as you shrugged then he repeated your name. Your full name. Had to be your parents. You reached your hands out and accepted the pretty blooms of different coloured roses. Sure were pretty. Your mother did always have good taste.

“That’s me,” you said unsurely. “Thanks, huh?” you said, stepping back inside and kicking the door closed and putting the flowers and their vase on the bench before taking to the card. This wasn’t your mother’s MO – she wasn’t a “surprise your spawn with flowers” kind of mother, more so “it’s 5 o’clock somewhere” sorta mother. There was always something to celebrate for her. Didn’t always include her child though.

_‘Sweetface, I’m sorry you got caught up in the bullshit of a few weeks back. I never meant to get you into any of that mess. Hope you forgive me. I’d love to get back to where we left off but I understandnd if you never want to see me again.’_

No sign off.

Tossing the card in the sink like it had burned you, you had a minuscule anxiety attack. You needed a few minutes to collect yourself, trying to focus on your breathing. And that wine that was breathing on the sink? Yeah. That was gone in about three unsightly mouthfuls. Control, you repeated to yourself. Then thought:

_Barnes._

It could only be Barnes, you rationalised. And then you realized… he knew where you lived. He probably knew everything about you that was on public record if he decided you needed flowers. Shit, you slightly panicked again as the door was banged on again. “Jesus Christ,” you exclaimed, jumping a mile in your heightened state, heart in your throat as you hesitated going back to the door. What if it was Barnes this time?

Your feet moved independently from your head as you were again at the door and took a bit more care at the peephole. Definitely the pizza guy, you breathed, opening the door to your usual pizza kid and handed him some notes. “Thanks,” you muttered, taking the box and slamming the door closed again, taking careful consideration with the locks before hugging the pie to your chest and giving yourself a second to check your breathing. “ _Fuck_.”

* * *

Toothpick between gleaming white teeth, Bucky leaned his muscular frame against the engine of his bike as Peter Parker skipped across the street to him. “You get those flowers delivered, kid?”

Peter nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yes, sir.”

Biting back a smile and swallowing a laugh, Bucky didn’t want to make Peter feel more uncomfortable than he already did. “It’s Bucky, Pete. You don’t have to call me, or any of the rest of the fellas ‘sir’,” he gently reminded him. Bucky dared ask, “Think she liked them?”

Peter shrugged. “I dunno, sir – Bucky. Bucky, sir,” Peter stuttered – Bucky glared at him. “She seemed a little confused.”

Bucky rationalised: was confused better than… “Not angry?”

“No. Just confused,” Peter confirmed and Bucky nodded, relieved.

“Appreciate it, kid.”

“It’s really no problem,” Peter replied. “I like to help out the MC where I can – ”

“You should be at home studying,” Bucky gently forced. The kid before him? Jesus, Peter Parker was some kind of genius – who spent his afternoons and evenings with the MC, much to the chagrin of most. He was a sweet kid, but he would grow up too fast if Steve didn’t make more of an effort to keep him at bay.

But no one had the heart. Peter had lived with his Uncle and Aunt after his parents died when he was barely at grade school. His uncle Ben had been a long-time member of the MC. Hit by a truck on a ride, died on impact. It had devastated everyone. More than enough loss for anyone, especially a young, impressionable teen like Peter. Bucky had figured the MC was familiar, family even. Peter’s Aunt May helped out at MC’s dinners and Peter was clinging to what he knew. The MC would do anything for both of them.

Though Bucky dreaded Peter would lose the more he found himself with the Avengers. Kid had lived a life already… but he needed a real one. Growing up too quickly was unfair, but he needed to try and be a kid with people his age. 

“Yeah,” Peter sighed, dropping his eyes. “I guess I should get going.”

Bucky agreed. “Thanks again, Parker,” he said, throwing a leg over the saddle of his bike and tossing the toothpick from his mouth on the path below. “Get back to Queens safe, ya hear?”

“I will,” Peter promised, turning his heel and getting lost in the throng of people on the sidewalk.

Bucky gunned the engine, giving the engine a few extra revs, feeling the glares of the people passing him and his obnoxiousness. He gave another one just for fun before reaching for his kutte and slipping it over his black hoodie. It never amazed him how quickly it took for the assholes from the City to side step him as soon as they spotted the MC’s colours. Snickering to himself, he straightened up, put his helmet on and released the throttle before cutting into the busy city streets.

* * *

Yeah, you’d heard it. Loud and clear and just for you, the engine of Bucky’s bike fired up across the street and it was almost like you felt the vibrations through your whole body. Against your better judgment, you found yourself flinging yoursef towards the window to try and get a look at him before he disappeared from your life again.

You were right, it was him – he was right there, demanding your attention. He still looked ridiculously good and you sighed, as he slid the black helmet over his handsome features.

What the fuck was wrong with you, you wondered, pushing yourself away from the window pane and forcing yourself to look away. He’s stalking you! The man is stalking you, you told yourself. Isn’t he? 

But your heart still raced, the same deep thrumming beat as the night on the back of Bucky’s bike – the feeling of his stong back against your front, the tremble of the engine tingling your thighs that were crushing against Bucky’s. His smell of mixed leather and cologne, his touch, his smile and those stony eyes.

“ _Do you trust me_?” your mind heard his voice crystal clear. _Yes_ , you recalled.

“No,” you said, aloud. “No, I don’t trust you.”

But by God, if you didn’t want him.


	3. Chapter 3

Leaving work a week or so later with a few tolerable co-workers who’d coerced you into a quiet drink, you were flabbergasted to see Bucky sitting on his bike, his lean frame leaning across the engine outside your building. He gave an amused half-smile at your shock and sat up, pulling himself from the bike, slicking his palms through his long, dark hair. “'Bout time,” he said, peak-hour pedestrians still between you both.

“A friend of yours?” a co-worker murmured, very interested.

“No,” you replied, sharply, feet rooted deeply on the spot. “Definitely not.”

“I’d re-evaluate that. He is super hot,” another teased, quietly. 

“We will meet you at the bar,” you were told as they dispersed even if they wanted to watch the show.

And suddenly you were alone. Just disgruntled New Yorkers wanting to get on with their evenings stopping you from being right before Bucky. He didn’t approach you. He wanted you to go to him. Fuck that. “I shoulda called the cops on you – you’re obviously stalking me.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Stalking? That’s a bit rich, doncha think?”

“You sent me flowers even though you didn’t have any of my details, you loitered outside my apartment while you sent a kid to do your dirty work – ”

“Loitered,” Bucky cut in to laugh. “Listen, sweetface, that information wasn’t exactly hard to find. You should go to the cops about Google’s privacy policies. I’m sure they’d just love to hear it.”

“They would be pretty interested in hearing that you’d been hanging around, I’m sure. They seem to love you and your friends.”

“That’s true,” he agreed modestly. “Coffee?”

“Fuck – just… _fuck you_ ,” you hissed back, a few people crossing between your conversation pausing to silently condemn your choice of vulgar diction on the street. _It’s fucking New York City, get over yourselves and put your ridiculous AirPods in, assholes_. At this stage, your anger was steeping so hot under your skin, the next person to look at you strange would probably cop a verbal lashing from you as well.

“Charming. So, you gonna ride with me or what?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The cockiness of this man to make such a bold assumption that you’d just follow him anywhere. It only frustrated you more – you imagined he could tell and was thoroughly enjoying riling you up like he was. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He reached behind him and revealed a helmet. “Why would I kid about something as serious as spending time with you? Look, I even got you a helmet. In… what I hope…” he held it out towards you. “Is your size.”

“You brought me a helmet?” you scoffed. How presumptuous. It was probably riddled with some other person’s cooties. Cooties? How old were you? But you persisted anyway, “I seem to remember the last time I got on that piece of junk, I spent an evening in an interview room. I am going to meet my friends for a few drinks – you can just… just leave, Bucky.”

He raised a finger in warning, his mouth turning into a small snarl – you had offended him, you felt accomplished. “First, this ‘piece of junk’ is a state-of-the-art machine,” he annunciated. Oh yeah, he was affronted all right. “Secondly, because of that, don’t belittle the time and work that has gone into it. And third: you don’t want to go with your friends. You want to go with me.”

You had to laugh. “Oh, my God. Your head is so far up your own ass.”

“It’s literally amazing,” he mocked you. “Get on the bike, sweetface.”

“Go fuck yourself, Bucky,” you retorted.

“You really are hard work, aren’t you?” he pinched the bridge of this perfect nose, closing his eyes and attempting to center himself. You were just glad you were as exasperating to him and he was to you but you approached him anyway.

“My friends are expecting me.”

He shrugged. “You can see them again Monday and give them all the gossip of your night with me instead. They seemed pretty interested.”

“Bunch of gossips, to be honest.”

“Assuming they don’t know about our night?” Bucky gently brushed some hair from your eyes and actually bopped your nose. You lightly slapped his hand away as he chuckled and you shook your head. “Look, I really am sorry about that. You gotta believe me. I would never, ever willingly drag anyone else into mine or the MC’s shit.”

You kind of believed him. “I know,” you admitted softly.

“Come coffee with me, we can talk and then I’ll drop your to your nosey friends or home and you can order me breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Good Lord,” you closed your eyes and counted to five. “You’re unbearable.” 

“I don’t deny that.”

“You aren’t turning this into a date,” you snatched the helmet from him and slipped it on your head. Bucky grinned widely and helped you adjust the straps, securing it just for you.

“I’m definitely _not_ trying to turn this into a date,” he blatantly lied through his perfect teeth and put his own helmet on.

“How do you do that so easily?” you asked him, heart sinking as you watched him toss his leg over and straddle the seat. He offered you his hand and helped you do the same, guiding you behind him. He fasted your arms around his strong chest.

“Do what so easily?” he dared ask, keying the engine.

You sighed against him, resting your cheek on his leather-bound shoulder. “Lie to me,” you muttered to yourself, knowing he didn’t hear you. But he replied the answer to himself.

“Because if I tell you the truth, you won’t want to be this close to me ever again,” he replied to no one and peeled onto the road, pissing off cab drivers and the like as he made his own way with you gripping onto to him, tightly.

* * *

“Thanks,” you said, as Bucky returned with a couple of cups of coffee and a few sweet treats to go with them. He gave a half grin as you picked up the cup and inhaled the sharp coffee beans. “You gotta tell me something.”

“Before you even take a sip?”

“If you don’t give me the answer I want, I’m taking this cup and walking out.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at your bold ultimatum and he fell back into his chair. “Fair.”

Clutching the cup for courage, you asked him, “Why couldn’t you just let me go, Barnes?”

Chuckling quietly, he nodded, impressed. “Okay, okay,” he replied easily. “You certainly go hard, sweetface. I can’t help it - I like how feisty you are. You got those pretty eyes burned in my brain, seeing the rage in them on our first meeting – kinda like the way you were telling me all about it before.”

“So you like that I get angry? Keep treating women the way you treated me, and I promise you, Bucky, you’ll see a lot of rage if that’s what turns you on.”

“Sweetface, I’m used to angry women,” he told you lowly. “The difference with you is that I could really see us enjoying fighting. But especially making up,” he teased but you didn’t flinch.

“I don’t enjoy volatility.”

“But here you are with me,” he retorted.

“I don’t usually get caught up with an MC’s Sergeant at Arms.”

Raising an eyebrow, he dragged his lip into his teeth, amused. “Where’d ya hear that?”

“ _Post, Daily News_ …. Even the _Times_.”

“I’m notorious, sweetface. Whatcha want me to say?”

“There was some pretty heavy stuff in there, Bucky,” you told him quietly.

He nodded, softly. “I don’t deny I’ve done some pretty horrible shit for the MC.”

“You were a murder suspect.”

He remained silent as he squared you up – you didn’t know if it was an admission of guilt or if he just had nothing to say on the matter. And you were so confused to try and read him to figure out which so you sipped your coffee and he did the same. Leaning down so his elbows were on the table, he asked, “Would it scare you if I was?”

You paused, mid-sip. He continued to keep your gaze and you kept his.

“I have my reasons for doing the things I do – there is no spur of the moment decisions for me and I’ll protect the MC at all costs. There will be collateral damage; I’m not denying that. But I’m good at my job, real fuckin’ good. I’m not proud of the things I’ve done, but there are justifications, sweetface. It may not make a difference to you, but it gets me to sleep at night.”

It sounded so cold and callous and for the first time, you looked at him. Really looked at him – his tired eyes and the purple bags under them, the gaze of a man that had been through hell and was living to tell the story. 

“It was self-defense,” he admitted finally. You inhaled sharply. He _had_ killed someone. “But that shit doesn’t make it to the papers when you’re a guy like me. I had a gun in my face and I made a choice to save my life. I did a lot worse overseas under orders,” he said darkly. “We take care of our family, the MC is my family. Nothing will change that.”

You nodded slowly. He awaited for your reply, but you didn’t think he was surprised that words were currently escaping you. He gave a half smile.

“I know that was probably not the answer you were wanting.”

“I don’t think I was even expecting one, to be honest.”

“I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a liar.”

You finally had to laugh. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Nope,” he sipped his coffee before easing back into his seat, and almost daring you, he added, “Try me, sweetface. For you, I’m an open book. And I’m all yours to read.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Am I keeping you from something?” Bucky asked an hour or so later – he’d noticed you checking your watch off and on and, while he thought things were going steadily between you, now he wasn’t so sure.

You had been chatting easily, discussion going back and forth on a variety of different topics. You were growing concerned that you were enjoyed hearing what he had to say a little too much. You were discovering that he was insightful, extremely intelligent, truly loved science, math and history (World War 2 fascinated him immensely). He had younger sisters, was close to his mother but didn’t have much of a relationship with his father. 

He didn’t have much to say about his time in the military, only really mentioning where he served: Iraq and Afghanistan. On finality of it, he quoted the Dalai Lama, _“War is neither glamorous nor attractive. It is monstrous. Its very nature is one of tragedy and suffering.”_ With each word, you fell further into the spell of the condumdrum of James Buchanan Barnes. 

He wasn’t running lines on you and between the both of you, you both knew he didn’t have to. He’d won you over with just simply being himsel

He told fucking terrible jokes. _“Dad jokes”_ , he admitted. Cheesy, cringe-worthy and he was unabashed because of them. And Bucky Barnes giggled. _Giggled!_ It was incredibly sweet and extremely unexpected. And that was another reason why you had to leave… because you were finding yourself laughing with him and that worried you. _A lot_.

“Well, you stole me away from my co-workers earlier. I was supposed to be hating getting drunk with them,” you reminded him as he broke into a small smile. “They are probably waiting for me,” you lied - you and he both knew they weren’t.

“You came willingly,” he said. He was right and you bit back a smile of your own. “What, do you turn into a pumpkin when the sun sets or somethin’?” he nudged his head toward the window, the apricot sunset in the city casting a warm glow on the buildings, causing you to squint a little as the colours hit your eyes.

You actually laughed. “No, I actually don’t have any plans. It’s a Friday night. If i deign my co-workers with my presence, I usually phantom off early then grab some food on the way home.”

He hummed. “Grim.”

“Thanks,” you rolled your eyes.

Nodding towards his bike outside, he asked, “Want to go for a spin? I gotta place I wanna show you.”

“Do I have a choice?” you teased as he stood up and offered you his big, strong hand., the marring of tattoos you hadn’t gotten close enough to yet inspect. You took it willingly as he grabbed both your helmet straps in his other hands. Letting go of your hand, he tucked you under his arm and left a light peck on your forehead as you made your way back to the street.

“You always gotta choice,” Bucky said as he slowly guided you between his body and the cool steel of his bike, a single thigh pressing against yours – it was hard to avoid your shiver. Maybe it was the warm night breeze sweeping you away with the moment, you weren’t to know, but you were running with it. “I don’t want you to ever think that you don’t,” his voice dropped and his lips closed in on your ear. “I just wanna get to know you,” his nose ran down the shell of your ear. “Gonna let me do that?”

Your knees shook as you were eased back against the seat of his bike and maybe you said “yes”, but God knows you were just enveloped in Bucky: his lightly tanned skin hidden behind stubble and long, dark lashes, the smell of his cologne mixed with leather, his voice so low, so deep, it made you feel euphoric.

“Good,” he breathed, suddenly jerking back and a wicked grin gracing his handsome features. You blinked, a little shocked at his quick change in demeanour, your racing heart jolting in confusion. Bucky handed you your helmet. “Come on, sweetface. Let’s go see some shit.”

* * *

Bucky parked up the bike at a Brooklyn Bridge lookout. There was a few couples around, some families just going about their business, their kids playing sweetly. Bucky got off the bike and hoisted you up by the waist easily – you were impressed by his strength. You both took off your helmets and went to the barricading, resting your backs against the steel and looking back at the city blocks and the sun setting behind them. Yellows, oranges and purples splayed against the skyscrapers and the city was just so vast and immense, it often made you feel tiny. But right now, Bucky’s bulky shoulder leaning against yours, you felt a little less lonely suddenly.

“It is beautiful,” you said quietly as Bucky hummed and spun you around slowly.

“I prefer that view myself,” he admitted. “Not really a fan of the big city. Never could see myself leaving Brooklyn. Think you could schlep over there occasionally?”

Rolling your eyes, you looked up at him. “That is the most roundabout way to ask someone if they’ll see you again… and in Brooklyn, no less.”

He laughed. “Slummin’ ain’t so bad, is it?”

You squinted. “Do you have a house?”

“I don’t live in a tent,” he confirmed, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his plump lips. Your glare burned into his face and he stifled a giggle. “I share a house with Steve.”

“Clubhouse?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s a few blocks away although there are bunks there, if needed.”

“Will you take me there?”

“Fuck no,” he said decidedly. “I want you to have nothing to do with the MC.”

“You just said you were an open book,” you replied, a little confused.

“That book doesn’t open.”

Sighing, your face breaking into a frown, you crossed your arms. “It’s a pretty big part of your life, isn’t it?”

“It is. But it’s not for you, sweetface.”

You turned to face him. “Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t already dragged me into this world?”

Pursing his lips, he gave a half nod, accepting you were right. He put his palm into his pocket and retrieved a flask, unscrewing it before taking a slug and handing it to you. Snatching it, you took a few deep shots. You were never one for whiskey, but today, you’d suffice, the warmth of the booze rippling down your throat and making you shudder. “Drink up, sweetface,” he teased. “Look,” he said softly as he faced you, his strong hands gripping your forearms. “You know shit goes down. I won’t deny that, but I need you to trust me on this. _Not yet_.”

Quietly, you replied, “Okay.”

“I mean, hey! After tonight you probably won’t wanna see me again anyway,” he tried to break the tension with a joke. You couldn’t resist and gave him a gentle smile and you nodded.

“You’re probably right,” you told him and as soon as the words slipped from your mouth, Bucky’s lips were on yours.

And just like you remembered, it was heaven. You craved the scratch of his stubble on your cheeks as his chapped lips melded against yours. His grip eased on your arms, nails dragging down your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his hands fastened on your hips, you think mostly to keep you upright, you thought and your body sunk against his.

Your hands gripped his hoodie tightly, keeping your body flush against him and the hard curves and ridges hidden under the fleece.

**_BUZZ –_ **

Bucky blinked once or twice, the burner phone in his pocket vibrating madly and continuous, demanding his attention but he settled back into your kiss, deepening it, ignoring the distraction in his jeans pocket, his tongue tracing your lips and pushing your body into the cool steel railing, fencing you in tightly against him. The phone silenced. _Finally_ , Bucky thought, relieved.

You greedily welcomed his tongue as he tugged your hair, the intensity of the kiss at fever pitch as the incessant phone started vibrating again and you sighed, breaking the kiss. The phone won. “As much as I wish that wasn’t a phone in your pocket…”

Bucky raised an impressed eyebrow at your candor and gave a small chuckle in response. “I’m sorry.”

“You should probably take it,” you hinted as he took a step back to give you some breathing room – you needed it. You felt like you had forgotten how to breathe during your shared kiss and suddenly you felt like you’d run a fucking marathon. You watched as Bucky took a few steps away, his demeanour fierce as he snapped a “what?” down the phone, turning his back to you and suddenly the chill of the evening breeze off the East River cooling you and you shivered. “Gimme an hour,” he concluded snapping the phone closed and pocketing it before looking back at you, forlorn, shoulders slumped.

“Duty calls?” you dared ask.

“Situation at Nat’s club.”

“Didn’t pick you for a clubber, Bucky,” you joked meekly.

He laughed and ran a tattooed hand though his dark brown locks. “I think we both know that it ain’t no clubbin’ scene, sweetface. But I gotta go. I’ll get you back to your place, okay?”

“That’s okay. The subway isn’t far,” you said, wrapping your arms around your torso, body temp dropping without Bucky’s warmth. You watched as he whipped his hoodie off and approached you again. “Arms up,” he instructed as you did what he said and he drapped his jumper over your body, as long as dress the kids seemed to be wearing long hoodies for these days, his smell making you needy. “On the bike, baby. I’ll get you home safe and sound.”

* * *

Your neighbour gave you a surprised ‘good evening’ as Bucky kept a firm hand on your lower back and you guided him into your apartment building, towards the elevator. “You didn’t have to walk me inside, you know.”

“I want to get your to your door and I can kiss you again,” he teased, hitting the ‘up’ button impatiently. You took his hand and held it in yours.

“Breaking the button won’t get it here faster,” you said as the door opened and you let your elderly neighbours who gave you and Bucky a confused glare as they passed and you entered. Bucky repeatedly hit the ‘close’ button. You took his shoulder and rolled him back against the railing on the wall, hoping to distract him, kissing him again. It worked. It worked real well. “Stay.”

He groaned. “Baby, I can’t. Believe me, I want to so bad I can taste it.”

“Stay,” you said again as the doors opened. The silence was long enough for the doors to close again. Bucky shot an arm out and gently pushed you away.

“I’ll be in touch,” was all he said as the doors closed, leaving you cold again.


	5. Chapter 5

There was no worse sound at 2:34am than that of a mobile phone vibrating on a bedside table, you realized as you groaned and reached out to retrieve it. Momentarily blinded from the bright light in your dark room, it took you a second to come to, seeing the unknown number on the screen. Your heart raced, begging it was Bucky. It had been a few days since you had last seen him, and unlike previous connections, this time he had really stayed on your mind. _His kiss, his smell, his voice._

“Hello?” you asked groggily.

“Sweetface,” Bucky said quietly. “I know it’s late.”

“It’s okay,” you said, prying yourself from your bedsheets to sit up.

“Were you having sweet dreams?”

Scoffing a small laugh, you replied, “I don’t remember my dreams.”

“That sounds nice,” he breathed. “I wish I didn’t remember my dreams.”

“That sounds a bit sad.”

“Well, my nightmares. Whatever the fuck they are these days,” he clarified.

You heart raced a little. You reckoned there was more to this call than just a ‘hello’. “Are you okay?” you dared ask.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied. “Just…”

“Just what?”

“Nh - nothing,” he stuttered and made a swallowing sound down the line.

“Bucky, you can tell me, you know.”

“I know, I just… it would be a burden for you to hear the noise in my head. Sometimes it’s so never ending, I swear, there just has to be something better, you know?”

You didn’t, but shrugging to yourself, you agreed with him. “I know there is.”

“I get flashes of bad shit sometimes. Messes with me.”

“From overseas?”

“Overseas, here. All seems the same sometimes.”

Breathing, you crossed your legs under you and realized spending a night talking over the phone to him wouldn’t fix anything. “Do you want to come over?”

There was a pause on his end. “Nah, I know you have work in the morning. I shouldn’t have even called. Just wanted to hear a friendly voice,” he gave a low, miserable chuckle. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Do you want me to come to you?” you offered.

“Oh, sweetface. That is my dream,” he teased. “I would love you to come for me.”

Blushing, your race burned as did the pulsing heat between your thighs – it would be a lie to think you hadn’t spent a bit of time thinking the same thing. A huge lie, in fact. “ _Bucky_ ,” you tried to reprimand him but he continued giggling and you couldn’t help it, you did too. Damn him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You got me laughing, sweetface. I’m so much better than I was,” he said gratefully

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

“But I wanna see you.”

And God how you wanted to see him. “What are you waiting for?”

“Puttin’ my boots on as we speak.”

* * *

In the city that never sleeps, it sure seemed quieter than usual as Bucky’s bike roared down your street. The aggression of the engine stilled abruptly out the front of your building and you waited for the buzz from the ground floor before letting Bucky in, spying him via the security camera. No words are spoken into the intercom, there is no need to at this time.

A few minutes later he was at your door, a light rapping and you were trying not to be too eager, but it seemed almost impossible. You wanted to see him, wrap your arms around him, feel his body heat. Tell him that it’s all going to be okay. That the perils of night wouldn’t hurt him anymore.

You opened the door to him and he fell into your waiting arms, breathing in your scent as he nuzzled your neck, his lips sweeping across the sensitive skin without leaving kisses. It is incredibly overwhelming, he took over your senses. All his pride washed away as he moved you both from the doorway, kicking the door closed with his heavy boot.

“Come on,” you whispered as he took in the room in the low light, the first time he’d seen it. You’d only switched on a few lamps, your head couldn’t comprehend more illumination than possible at this foreign hour and you hoped the soft light would work in your tired favour.

“That your family?” Bucky approached the TV and the scattering of photos around it. Your parents and couple of siblings. You weren’t very close to them since you moved to the city, only really seeing them if someone visited or holidays. You nodded as he closely inspected a few other photos. He looked back with a smile. “Adorable.”

Adorable, said the MC SAA and you groaned. “Whatever. Want some tea?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Thanks, though.”

You were both quiet a moment but you heard him stifle a yawn and you held you hand out. “Come,” you instructed as he approached you and he did as he was told. His hand, warm as always, linked with yours and you lead him to your room. You let him in first and he moved to the bed, taking a seat on the corner and resting his elbows on his knees.

“So now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?” he joked as you fluffed the pillows.

“You are going to sleep and I’m going to do the same thing,” you said simply. You figured if you said, ‘I’m going to rip your clothes off and ride you until we’re both spent’, may’ve been a bit forward, and you figured Bucky had heard _forward_ before anyway. You mean… look at him. He was surreal, the kind of face you didn’t see on the street.

“Just sleep?” he continued, pretending to be dejected. “Okay, but if you come to my side of the bed, I will resist you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No,” he agreed. “I probably won’t,” he stifled a laugh.

Approaching him, you got to your knees and started unlacing his big, black boots, pulling them from his feet, taking his thick socks with him. He watched you, a look on his face you were unable to read. “Stand up,” you said quietly and he did, wanting to know your next move. Your hands drifted to the waist of his dark jeans, unbuckling the belt and then the top button. You stopped, suddenly nervous.

Bucky brushed hair from your face. “It’s okay. You don’t have to,” he said, gently, his calloused palm caressing your chin. You looked up at him, earnestly.

“But I want to.”

He nodded gently. “Okay,” he said, pulling his hoodie from his torso and tossing it in the corner, leaving him in a white v-neck and giving you easier access to his jeans. He was hard under them, he knew you knew. The attentiveness you showed him was more of a turn on than he’d felt in years. After so many easy lays with MC hangers-on and boring one-night stands, intimacy didn’t mean what it used to. A quick fuck, tell whoever they were to put their clothes back on and get the fuck out. It was heartless, and Bucky never always used to be that way. But he wasn’t the same man he was before the war and he was an even colder man now he was in the MC. He hated that part of himself the most.

He watched you tentatively push down the zip, loosen his jeans and side them down his slim waist and strong thighs, before he stepped out of them.

You reached for his t-shirt but he stopped you, gently wrapping his strong hands around your wrists. “No, don’t,” he whispered, lowering his eyes. “Not yet, at least.”

You nodded, a little puzzled but you would respect his wishes. “Okay,” you stepped away and moved to the bed (that your had re-made before he arrived), moving to your side as he slowly made his way to the other, slipping under the covers and pulling the pillow to him, his strong arms clutching it like a lifeline.

“I don’t have to be here.”

“But I want you here.”

“I’m scared I won’t want to leave,” he confided.

You gave a half-smile. “Just stay on your side of the bed, Romeo.”

“You’d better not snore,” he joked, rolling away from you and chuckling quietly. Suddenly, you were nervous. Did you snore? Oh fuck, it had been a long time since you’d shared a bed with anyone, who could even be sure anymore?! Oh, shit.

You distracted yourself with Bucky’s muscular figure across from you – the strong peaks and ridges of his muscles a temptation to touch, to trace the tattoos down his left arm, see what it was in its entirety. Patience is a virtue, you reminded yourself. Hopefully the pay off was worth it. Smiling softly to yourself, you reached over for the bedside light and turned it off, praying sleep and pleasant dreams of the man beside you would come. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, sweetface.”

* * *

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky’s raspy morning voice murmured as your alarm started with a shrill screech. He wasn’t really an alarm person these days – sure, he could trust his body clock to have him at the gym by 9ish or so, but this was obviously much earlier than that. Absurd, he said, reaching for your bedside table, over your slowly waking form and knocking the inferior sound across the room.

“No,” you whined to yourself, attempting to detangle yourself from the bedsheets as Bucky lingered over you a little, muffling a yawn behind his hand. “I have to get up for work.”

“Nah,” he said, a half smile playing on his full lips, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep. “Don’t get up, it’s really nice in here,” he continued, moving his hips above yours, tilting your knees wide as he leaned his hips into them, the light grind telling you in no uncertain terms what was potentially on the cards. It was bold and you loved it.

Jesus, yes. A morning fuck with what could only be described as the man of your dreams (minus a few indiscretions, here and there). His warm, heavy body on yours was welcomed as he leaned down and kissed you gently. “But I really have to get ready,” you protested pathetically as Bucky laughed loudly, his dark hair that had fallen from its bun filtering around your faces.

“Yeah, I can tell you really wanna leave the bed,” he taunted, his nose tracing down the side of your face and tipping your chin to give him more access to your throat, his lips starting a slick assault with wet, open mouthed kisses. You made a sound so foreign to you, he laughed against your skin but didn’t stop.

“That’s so good,” you admitted, your fingers gliding into his hair, pulling close to his scalp and your legs wrapped around his calves. Bucky was relentless as he sat back a little and pulled you up to take off your bed shirt, leaving your top half naked. Chewing his bottom lip to appreciate the view, he laid you back and peppered kisses across your décolletage before taking a desperate nipple into his mouth, his hand taking your other breast in hand and massaging gently. Goddamn, he was good at that. With his other hand snaking down your side, his skillful fingers were suddenly at the seams of your night shorts and caressing the skin on your inner thigh. You were so turned that you were worried the second he touched you in the right place, you’d blow. Calm down, you aren’t a kid anymore, you warned yourself as you lowered your palms to his shoulder, clutching and digging in your nails, he let out a little groan of pleasure himself –

**Beep beep beep!**

Your fucking alarm clock started again, Bucky must’ve only knocked the ‘sleep’ option instead of turning it off. “Ignore it,” Bucky growled into your skin, his tongue doing wonderous things around your rib cage.

And dear God, you tried to enjoy the moment, but it really wasn’t as sexy as it should’ve been with the blaring noise in the room. Jerking his head away, Bucky’s body was snatched away from you and stalking across the room to where he’d dumped your phone. He handed it to you to shut off, but it was too late. The moment felt… ruined.

Bucky inhaled, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “You probably havta get ready for work, huh?”

“Kinda… yeah,” you said, sadly. “I’m sorry.”

He gave a half-smile. “It’s all good, you do your thing. There is time for this.”

You didn’t really have any words to reply with. You could apologise, agree, you just weren’t sure which one was right. So you bashfully scooted from the bed, gathered your discarded shirt to your chest and headed past Bucky towards the bathroom. His tattooed hand grasped your wrist gently, pulling you back to him and kissing you deeply. You fell into the kiss willingly, he was so good at it. A moment later, he pulled back and moved aside so you could head to the bathroom, an exit you took hastily and shut the door behind you.

Finally breathing, you stopped at the vanity and took yourself in, letting your t-shirt fall to the cool tiles underfoot. Hair in a hundred different directions, bags under your eyes from interrupted sleep, argh. Was that a fucking pimple?! 

Hello, Monday. I hate you, you thought. You went for your toothbrush and started your morning routine, already starting to confront that it was the start of another dreaded week. Pushing away your shorts, you turned to the shower, turning the taps on to your desired temperature before stepping in and letting the hot water overcome you, starting your shower rituals of washing your face and body, taking a moment to remember as you closed in on your thighs just how close you and Bucky were.

_Fuck_. You sighed, frustrated.

Fuck, fuck –

You were interrupted by a gentle knock and quickly covered yourself before Bucky entered. He popped his head in, not facing you. “Mind if I come in?”

“Ahh,” you tried not to stutter. “Sure.”

You said as he wandered it and went to your mirror. “Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

“Yeah, the red one with the silver stars,” you told him. He scoffed a laugh.

“Looks like our MC patch,” he replied, humoured before turned on the cold water momentarily and brushing his teeth. You couldn’t help but watch his back and arm muscles moving. He really moved delicately for a big man. Spitting and rinsing off the toothbrush, he moved towards the shower door, slipped down his boxers and t-shirt, before opening the door and stepping in as if he had already asked permission and you had said yes. He put his dark hair under the stream, the water like a waterfall down his frame. And that’s when you saw it – the scarring around his left shoulder. Ugly ribbons of raw, angry red skin that littered down his pectoral and towards his neck. You now knew why he didn’t want to remove his shirt the night before and it left you speechless. Speechless and devastated for him.

“What happened?” you dared ask, attempting to give him some more room under the water.

He huffed a sigh, his stony blue eyes meeting yours. “Iraq. Wrong place at the wrong time. Was in a convoy with my team when the IED went off,” He looked at his shoulder. “I was honestly one of the lucky ones. Lost three soliders that day. Was medevac’d out and ended up my last day in a warzone. I was flown to Germany so the doc’s could try and save the limb and shrapnel extractions before I was sent back Stateside,” he said softly as you stepped closer and lightly touched the rough patches of skin, eliciting a small hiss from Bucky but he didn’t push you away. You gave him a helpless look as he pushed wet hair from your face and took you in his arms, your naked bodies warm, wet and as close as humanly possible to the others as you left a single kiss on the front of his shoulder.

His large hands drifted up and down your sides, gripping your hips and he put a well, muscled thigh between your legs, gently rocking you, exposing you. It might have been the only things keeping you from slipping as his took you again by the mouth, hot kisses flowing through both of you as Bucky’s fingers slipped to your core and spread you open for him. You gasped against his mouth as his fingers lightly prodded against your clit, your sense on overdrive as your took his cock in your hands, already half-hard. You both worked each other over as Bucky slipped a finger into you, his thumb continuing it’s sweet ministrations on your senses.

“God, that feels good,” you whispered to him as he gave you a small smile as he moved you back towards the cold tiles.

“Do you trust me?”

As always, your head screamed ‘no’, but your body said, ‘fuck yes!’ and you nodded.

“Are you the pill?”

You nodded as he lifted you, your back contorting away form the cool wall.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Nodding, you replied, “Fuck me.”

Licking his lips and lining himself up at your entrance, Bucky pushed in millimeter by excruciating millimeter, filling you up in ways you’d forgotten was possible. Girth good, length perfect, you realized as he bottomed out and you watched each other, waiting patiently as he held you tightly and began to rock in and out of you. Head lolling to rest on his shoulder, Bucky’s hips rolled into yours in a perfect rhythm. “You good?”

You managed to tell him yes, as he groaned, taking a breast in his calloused palm and squeezing it, ducking his head to gently bite and suck and it was exquisite. He knew everything your body wanted and needed. “Touch me?”

Without a word, fingers slipped down your body, parting your lips to gain access to your clit, already throbbing and desperate for attention. His touch was like an electrical current ripping through your body, switching on every nerve ending, your body completely submitting at his will. “You’re close,” he could tell as your grip on his body tightened. “You come, sweetface. Come for me,” his fingers moved in just the right place and like an electric shock, your body was coming. Rolling against his as he pulled you in tighter and fucking you rightly through it, he growled into your neck, fingers not ceasing their ministrations and wanting to take every piece from you that he could. 

As your orgasm started to cease, Bucky’s body sped up, grunting and forcing you roughly into the wall each time he thrust in, chasing his own release. A primal groan ripped through him. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, as his body wound down, slow thrusts finishing him before his lips met yours, kissing you hungrily. “You are so beautiful,” he told you, kissing you again before losing yourselves under the hot water again.


	6. Chapter 6

Calling in to work on a Monday morning was difficult. You know, in that nerve-wrecking way that when you call the boss in a fake, nasal-type voice with the occasional cough and splutter to say you’d caught some bug that was ‘going around’, but in reality you actually had a MC SAA parting your thighs and making you want to use about every curse word known to Urban Dictionary as he ate you out, blue eyes dancing wickedly as he peered up at you, making a phone call that would be a damn sight easier if he wasn’t going down on you.

You were probably going to hell on a one-way ticket, but goddamn, if death by Bucky Barnes was going to send you there, you’d at least enjoy the ride there. “I just am terribly under the – ” you tried as a gasp illicit down the phone line to your boss. You failed to cover it with a cough.

“I think it’s best you stay home,” your boss confirmed. “Take a few days, sounds like you’ll need it.”

A little more conversation and you hung up willingly, tossing the phone away as Bucky giggled, the puff of warm air tingling against your over-stimulated body. He paused the say, “Well done, sweetface,” before he ducked down and returned to his task at hand.

“Jesus Christ, if there was a medal, Bucky,” you uttered, reaching down and tangling your fingers into Bucky’s wet, messy waves, gathering his attention again, dark lashes blinking slowly. It was so incredibly sexy as he met your eyes, all you could really see was the bob of his head and the fluid movement of his muscular shoulders.

“Hmmm?” he teased a question.

“For exactly what you’re doing,” you head fell back into the pillows, a familiar tingling in your tummy, a coil of excitement as Bucky’s practiced tongue lapped up your core, gently twirling and sucking on parts you almost didn’t know existed. You were trying to desperately to just enjoy yourself, but the thought of being so on display tangled with the hedonism of Bucky’s ministration was dizzying. And the sounds that were coming out of your mouth were certainly not of you – well, of course they were yours, but Jesus. It was primal, your whole body felt like it was being set on fire. Feeling Bucky’s fingers drag against your inner thighs before pinching at the sensitive, soft skin roughly, your back vaulted off the cool sheets and he giggled, pushing you back down, proud of himself and not remotely done with you yet.

“Almost there, sweetface. You’re almost there,” he cooed, encouragingly before ducking his head again. And he wasn’t wrong, peals of heat were sparking from your hair and your toes and searing through your nervous system towards the area Bucky had unleashed his wicked assault. He eased his grasp on you, fingertips creeping towards you eagerly and finally, desperately swirling around that teeny bundle of nerves.

And you exploded. It may be the best orgasm you’d ever had and you hoped it would never end.

Your body shuddered and shook, rolling to its own rhythm as Bucky groaned, exceptionally pleased with himself. Watching you writhe before him a certain turn on as he ground his pelvis into the bed, desperate for some friction and relief of his own as you came down from your subliminal high, you couldn’t wait to help him do so.

Sighing into your oversensitive bundle of nerves, you yelped again, desperate for some relief as Bucky put his chin into his large palms and batted his long, dark lashes proudly. “How’d I do, sweetface?”

As shiteating as his grin was, you couldn’t help but let a huff of a giggle escape. “I’ve had better,” you teased as he launched his way up the bed, highly offended. He leered over you, nudging your thighs wide so he could rest between them, his muscular arms flexed and caging around you, menacingly… to everyone except you, of course.

“How dare you,” he squared his jaw. “I didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I do know,” you wiped away a dribble of slick against his beard and sighed. “Thank you for that. It was… I’m actually speechless.”

“That’s a nice change,” he winked as a blissed smile graced your features. He asked why before collapsing beside you, grasping a sheet over his waist and laying to face you, licking his lips.

“Well, it’s not something many lovers have done.”

“What? You have dated selfish assholes who only want blowjobs?” he asked mockingly. “Men are fucking assholes. Luckily for you, I enjoy it,” he shrugged. “Seeing a woman turn inside out at my touch? Fuck, it’s nice to know I’m doing something so satisfying.”

“You are very giving,” you patted his stubbly cheek.

“Totally,” he agreed, with a grin. “Which, I have to say, at anytime you want to return the favour, you just say the word. I’m ready and willing.”

Beginning to get up, he pushed you back down. “Relax, sweetface. We got all day in this bed and we aren’t leaving. Enjoy the afterglow for now,” he winked and you were so fucking smitten, you could hardly fathom it and how deep it all seemed so quickly. You just wanted to curl around him and bask in his warmth forever.

Everything, everything continually screamed whatever this was with Bucky wasn’t right, yet in no way could you actually find a way to ask him to leave. You knew there was more to him than just a motorbike and some questionable choices he’d made in his past. But you also knew there was a lot you hadn’t dared ask, and if you did, even though he professed to be an open book to you, did you really want to know?

Probably not, you’d figured. But you’d power through.

“Am I allowed to ask about the MC?” you wondered shyly after a few moments of quiet, tracing his raw, harsh red scarring on his shoulder. He made a face but didn’t say no. “I’m not after any insider stuff. I just want to know about your friends.”

“You can ask me anything,” he answered, but it sounded more like, ‘you can ask, but you may not like the answer’.

“Tell me about Steve. You seem pretty close.”

“We are.”

“You said Steve was your Army captain?”

Bucky nodded. “We were buddies when we were kids, went to school together. He was a bit of a runt, small, kept to himself but Jesus, he knew how to pick a fight. He’d always be on the receiving end of a belting. When he finally went through puberty,” Bucky paused to laugh. “Well, let’s just say the bullies found another target because Steve was suddenly the biggest guy in the class.”

You grinned at Bucky’s fondness for his friend. “Who joined the Army first?”

“Me. I joined first. Steve always wanted in, but he was arty, you know? He should have just stuck to his plan and went to some art school. His life would have turned out a fuck load differently if he did… mine too, probably,” Bucky told you wistfully. 

“He’s an artist?”

“He still draws a bit. But not the way he did before.”

“And now he’s the President of the MC.”

Sighing, Bucky shook his head, forlornly. “It’s strange – Steve’s MO when he was voted in was always to get the MC to go straight, legit,” Bucky shrugged, reaching for the water on the bedside table, taking a large gulp. “But I guess he just couldn’t get us out of the shit that was left before him. And he’s tried. Fuck, _he’s tried to get us out_. But when you’re in so deep… it’s not always that simple.”

“Why don’t you leave?” you asked softly.

Pouting then pulling his lips into a thin line, he replied, “Got nothin’ else. Made my bed with my record, it’s not like I can go back to teaching,” Bucky admitted with a scoff. “When I got back from Afghanistan, Iraq and fuck knows where else I was stationed those years… I needed a way to forget any of that stuff ever happened. When I was teaching, I would be busy through the day then come home to some marking… and nothing. Just the noise in my head, horrendous memories. So I’d grab a beer and drown in the darkest thoughts you could imagine – you just don’t forget that fuckin’ stuff and I’ve seen some stuff you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy,” he gave you a small smile and you moved closer to him, he wrapped his tattooed arm around you and kissed your forehead as your bodies wrapped around each other. “And outta the blue, Steve called. Told me he was home and that he was doing some work with his old Army buddy, Sam. Things that kept him busy in the quiet hours. Steve understands the demons. In their own way, Sam and Nat do too. Sam watched his flight buddy shot outta the sky and the shit Nat went through to in Russia, you wouldn’t believe me for telling you.”

“I want to meet them.”

“They want to meet you,” Bucky stifled a laugh. “Especially Sam. He wants to know who can tolerate me as much as you seem to be able to.”

“You can tell him you’re a really good lay,” you joked. “Like, really good.”

“Really good? Well, that kinda sucks,” Bucky joked. “But I guess at the time I was naïve to think that it was simply a group of messed up guys sitting around, shooting the shit and drinking their problems away. I probably should have given my time to AA and the VA in hindsight.”

“So, what do you do?” you asked the careful question.

“At the start? I stood at the door with my tatts on display and I was always just pissed off enough to make sure no one would fuck with me. Keepin’ the rabble outta Nat’s club.”

“Nat has a club?”

Scoffing, Bucky nodded. “Yes. For very specific clientele.” 

“Sounds ominous.”

“It’s really not that deep,” Bucky replied. “Strip club.”

“Were you with any of the girls?”

“The dancers?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. God, he was pathetic, he couldn’t lie to save his life but you left him get away without an answer as he dropped his eyes. You’d take that as a ‘yes’.

“Well, I guess you were put in a role that led you to SAA, right?”

Yeah, guess so. Protect the MC at all costs.”

“I guess you are scary when you want to be,” you teased, hoping to lift his spirits a little. Maybe you’d asked enough for the night.

Blinking, Bucky frowned at you. “You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

“Right now, no. You don’t scare me at all.”

He sighed. “But I still scare you.”

“What you get up to scares me. What you’ve been through scares me. But when it’s just us? No, I’m not scared,” you told him as he nodded slowly.

“It’s not too late to run,” he reminded you. “I don’t want you in my mess.”

“I know I can’t help you fix it, but I want to be there for you, Bucky.”

He breathed deeply. “I just worry if I bring you in, then you’re in. You’re stuck. Your life will change. It may not be for the better. It may affect your job, your friendships, your family and I don’t want to ruin all that shit for you,” he took your face in his warm, calloused palms. “This is up to you. We’re at the sink or swim part, sweetface. And if you want me out, I’ll dress and you’ll never hear from me again. But if you want me to stay, it’s you and me. And my bullshit. And you’re bullshit. But I’ll take such good care of you. I will never let anyone hurt you.”

His eyes were so blue and earnest, it almost hurt to look in them. But you were nodding. You wanted this, you needed him. So desperately. You released his hands and climbed into his lap, straddling across his powerful thighs as you reached forward to seal your promise with a kiss. He didn’t reciprocate for a moment but finally wrapped his arms around you and bringing you to him, tightly, his mouth melded against yours desperately. “You and me.”

He nodded, licking his lips. “You and me, sweetface.”


	7. Chapter 7

After a couple of days of barely leaving bed (exceptions being bathroom, shower, retrieve food from whichever delivery guy), the bubble you and Bucky had found yourselves in needed to burst. He had to show his face at the MC and your faux flu had to make a miraculous recovery and with it, the monotony of your life resumed.

Sleep, eat, work, repeat. You’d hear from Bucky here and there through the week, usually late in the evening when you should be sleeping and oblivious to the outside world – but he was never going to be the kind of guy you’d chat to on the phone and stay up late, giggle together and make your future plans. Oh, goodness no.

To be honest… even though it was you and him now, personally it was difficult to plan for tomorrow when you still had so much to learn about him today. Right now, you’d suffice for snuggling into the blue hoodie he’d left behind. It smelled _so_ good. His soap, cologne and him. And now, maybe the bruise of your perfume since you’d spent so much time being held by Bucky in it. It was a delicious concoction.

But it was so late and you were impatiently waiting for a call that you knew may not even come. You had work in the morning and these late nights pretending you weren’t waiting to hear Bucky’s raspy Brooklyn drawl down the line was starting to wreck havoc on your workday.

Sighing, you gave up and put your phone on the bedside table, turning off the lamp. It was a little cool without Bucky’s body heat keeping you warm… his strong arms grasping you tightly, fingertips running warm trails on your skin as he wriggled in nice and close behind you. You grinned to yourself as you remembered the morning you rolled over to be the big spoon and the gentle sigh of contentedness he murmured while he slept soundly. He woke up later, smiling sweetly and mumbling that he loved waking up with your curves tucked around him. God, it was such a sexy thing to say. So sexy that you rolled him onto his back and rode him slowly until you were both writhing in agony and desperate for release. The waves of pleasure almost unbearable to resist as you realised your fingers were tracing down his hoodie, down your flushing skin and towards the waistband of your knickers.

Yes, Bucky was just that hot that he had become the face of your fantasies. You’d always been attracted men with dark features and light eyes, you reminded yourself as your hand snuck towards the seam of your underwear –

_Knock, knock_.

“The fuck,” you whispered to yourself but in suddenly realised who was rapping and your pleasure was quickly dissipated for excitement as you bolted to the door. Spying through the peephole, you rolled your eyes, body falling against the wood was you called back that you didn’t order any fucking take out at God knows what o’clock. This was NYC. Even if crime statistics were allegedly down, you’d be damned to open the door at this goddamn hour. You liked your organs where they were and the delivery guy didn’t have your permission to extract them.

The dude recited the order, your phone and apartment number. “Don’t shoot the fuckin’ messenger. I just make the deliveries, alright?” he added hotly. “If ya don’t want it, nothin’ I give a shit about,” he huffed, before leaving the food at the door and meandering away, a distinct shake of his head as you heard low conversation and as you spied again, the face of a smirking Bucky peered back at you.

“You were gonna just leave my food in the hallway?” he teased. “Open the door, sweetface. It’s me.”

Shaking your head, but unable to resist the smile that was forming across your face, you opened the few deadlocks and let him in. “What time you make this?”

“Thursday morning… maybe?” he asked softly pulling you into his arms and lifting your body from the ground in his tight embrace, the takeout bumping against your hip lightly. “I missed you.”

“You know, you can give me the head’s up when you’re going to be sneaking in at all hours if you really wanted to,” you took his hand and lead him to the couch where he put the food on the table and fell face first into the cushions, clearly exhausted.

“Yeah, but where would the fun of scaring the shit outta you be?” he retorted.

“You can take your Chinese, get back on your bike and go back to your side of the city if you really want to,” you sniped as you collected cutlery and brought them over to him.

“No, thank you,” he sighed, looking up, wisps of brown waves falling into his tired eyes from their bun at the base of his neck. You took a seat next to him and pushed them away, lightly tracing across his furrowed brow and he forced a grin before sitting up. “I know it’s late and that I should have called, I just was in the city after a late meeting and figured I’d crash here.”

“You weren’t at the club?” you frowned.

“Uh, no,” Bucky replied, distracting himself with the egg rolls and taking a huge, crunching bite, crumbs littering the front of his black hoodie. “You hungry?”

“Ate hours ago,” you replied. “Thirsty?”

“Whiskey?” he replied, although the question echoed more like a demand. “Something hard.”

“Okay,” you said, a little uncertainly and popping up to get the drink. “Ice?” you asked, a little clipped in your tone as you started at the back of his head that he was shaking. You tossed the glass on the bench a little recklessly but not enough to break it and poured him a hefty shot before returning and placing it loudly on the table, spilling it a little. He looked at your with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“I was in bed before you got here with your shitty little attitude. If you were so tired and not in the mood to be here, you know you don’t have to be here.”

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “This is honestly the only place that I want to be,” he muttered, shovelling noodles into his mouth. “Just a shit day. You’re right, I shouldn’t take it out on you. Shit’s playing on my mind, seriously m’sorry,” he said again, offering you a mouthful at the end of his chopsticks and a sympathetic ‘I’m a dick but you already knew this’ face. You shook your head gently and placed a kiss on his tattooed hand.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Laughing gently, he admitted that didn’t usually get him out of trouble, usually only caused more. “Only to you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m only with you for your body.”

He winked. “Liar. But I’m still taking it as a compliment,” he replied as you heard the buzz of his phone vibrate in his pocket. “Do I ever get a fuckin’ minute?” he growled to himself, stabbing his chopsticks into the food and tossing it the table before forcefully pushing himself to his feet with an annoyed grunt and going to your bedroom, slamming the door after him. It felt like the whole apartment shook and a chill ran down your spine.

Swallowing the confusion down, you were beginning to wonder why you even bothered opening the door tonight. He was in a right mood you were unable to read – he wanted to please and see you, you could see that, but his distraction was much more obvious.

After a few minutes of relative silence, you heard Bucky yell, “ _Чушь собачьыа,_ Natalia!” It was followed by the distinct sound of something being broken. Not glass, but wood? …plasterboard?

You figured his outburst was Russian. But why it was coming out of Bucky’s mouth was completely foreign to you. He’d never mentioned other languages and it was a strange surprise, and certainly not a language of romance like you’d prefer.

The fuck was going on, you wondered, your heart rate rising nervously – you knew his strength. But you weren’t sure whether to check on him, so you sat antsy, glued to the seat until he returned a few minutes later, red and almost shaking with anger also a little clammy. His left fist was in his right, stretching and flexing. “Are you okay?” you gambled voicing the question as he huffed back into the seat beside you, force-feeding himself and avoiding your anxious gaze.

“I’ll get someone to come fix the wall tomorrow,” he replied, mouth full. When he reached back for more food, you stoped him, gently taking his hand in yours and inspecting what you now realised caused such a fuss in the bedroom – you were correct. Bucky’s fist probably went through your drywall.

“I don’t give a shit about that, Bucky. Are you okay?” you asked again, shuffling closer and snuggling into his side, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, kissing his temple, hoping to calm him down. He was seething when he walked in and he was goddamn irate now.

But you felt the tension ease a little under your touch. It made you feel pretty good.

“Bucky, are you okay?” you asked again.

He turned to face you, a nod barely moving. “I’m fine. Just political bullshit.”

“In Russia?” you asked, facetious. 

He gave a half-smile, surprised. “Good guess.”

“Okay,” you said soothingly, the confirmation of angry Russian still confusing but you continued, “Just don’t hurt yourself? For me, just stay safe, yeah?”

A truer smile came to his face even if his amusement barely met his eyes. “I am safe, sweetface. And so are you.”

You remained silent while he finished polishing off all the food before him - he really could put it away. Fast metabolism, he’d told you previously and you didn’t argue. Watching him eat was astonishing.

“So, it’s Friday tomorrow,” he said, sitting back in the couch. “And I feel we really haven’t had enough… dates.” 

You raised an eyebrow, wanting so desperately to hide your excitement but the smile that split your face nearly in half gave you away as Bucky pulled a sip of his whiskey, a gentle giggle bubbling from his lips. “Really?”

“Yes, definitely. All that wining and dining bullshit. You wear something cute that I tear off you later. Whatcha say?”

“I’ll wear something that will be really easy to rip off,” you promised, a hint of tease in your voice as he put his glass back on the table before pulling you to his lap, grinding you down, a small groan dragging from the back of his throat.

“Gotta fuck you,” he said into your skin, his beard scratching the sensitive skin on your neck as he pushed the hair away and his lips caressing you, his teeth giving a gentle nip. “Now.” 

Your head feel back, giving him all more access to your skin as you tangled your fingers in his hair and tugged at it and lacing your fingers into the locks, nails clawing his scalp. It was his kryptonite, he loved having his hair pulled. Spurred him on, encouraged him. Freeing his hands, he rushed as he shoved your underwear to the side, his fingers feverishly delving into your wetness.

It was embarrassing how on edge this man kept you.

“So wet,” he breathed, pulling your lips to his and kissing you deeply, his tongue pressing against yours roughly as his finger slipped inside you, simply and slippery, his thumb lightly pressing against your clit. He was nowhere near done with a quick little fingering to get you off - he wanted you wet, wanting and pulsating for him while he was deep inside you.

You writhed against his skilled hand, the slick sound of Bucky’s fingers thrusting into you mixing with your desperate moans of pleasure. There was nothing to say in that moment. Bucky’s fingers scissored inside you, eyes drifting down your body to watch you.

“Fuck,” he murmured quietly to himself, the pleasure he was giving you turning him on further. His curse took your attention and you caught your breath for a moment to move your hands to Bucky’s jeans, popping the button and unzipping over his hard on. He shifted a little to lift his ass and adjust himself, pulling his cock from his boxer briefs. You watched as he palmed himself, needing to relieve some of the building pressure. You released your fingers from his hair and ran your hands own his chest before moving his hands away, giving him a few small pumps, adjusting your posture and exchanging his fingers to sink on to him. You both groaned as he filled you, your bodies stilled as you contorted and slumped against him, full, his arms tightening around your torso and his forehead rested against your shoulder. It was these strangest intimate moments that you craved from him - and you hoped he did too.

You took his chin in your hands, forcing his eyes to yours as you started to move above him. You needed him to know how good he made you feel - to get him out of his own head and enjoy his indulgence as well, not just yours. “Keep your eyes on me,” you instructed him as he nodded, pulling your body closer, his hips grinding up to meet yours. It was desperate, hot and constricting and you wouldn’t change a motherfucking thing. His fingers reached down to cup your sex and his thumb slipped to your clit, pressing and rubbing furiously, wanting your release so he could chase his.

“I think I’m fallin’ in love with you,” Bucky muttered as his forced his mouth onto yours, kissing you frenzied as you felt yourself coming. You almost missed his declaration as the waves of desire seared through you. You continued riding him, confused though impassioned as you heard the familiar roar of Bucky coming. He thundered into you like a freight train as you held him, begging to ride out his orgasm with him.

He pulled you close and kissed you in the afterglow. And as your heart paced, you hoped and prayed he didn’t realise it was mostly because of his mumbled statement of love. 

* * *

_Чушь собачьыа - bullshit_


	8. Chapter 8

This was really, actually happening, you realised as you sucked in your tummy again, standing to your full height in the mirror. You had never been so particular preparing for a date in your life. But there was just something about that Bucky fucking Barnes.

Drinks and dinner, no big ( _sure_ ). But it was nice to get out of your apartment and share some fresh night air with other human beings. You heard Bucky’s familiar knock a while later, surprisingly no motorbike revs prior tolerating you to his arrival but gathered yourself with a deep breath and let him in with a smile. “Hey.”

How you bit back the gasp that begged to the be let out as you took in his broad form was award-winning – well worn brown boots, his long, strong legs clad in too tight black jeans, a black V-neck tee that clung desperately to his chest and black leather jacket, his long hair loose from its usual manbun, stubble shaved closer but would still leave a tingle later. You were so heady from his cologne, you felt your knees beg to give out but you managed to remain on your feet.

He took a sharp inhale and ran his hand though his dark waves, his deep blue eyes blatantly gazing down your body and he widened his stance. “Okay, so we’re doing this,” he told himself, both of you, nervously. It was exceptionally sweet.

“Look okay?” you dared ask.

“Do a little turn for me, sweetface?” he murmured and you did as asked. “Jesus Christ, you look amazing. This all for me?”

“I’d never dress for you,” you sniped cheekily. “I know what works for me.”

“You sure fuckin’ do. You ready to go?” he asked. You held up a finger and ducked away to grab your clutch and another quick once-over in the mirror. As confident as you wanted to appear, you were freaking the fuck out. You took a sip of the wine you’d poured to ease your jittering, surprised at your nervousness. But as you already knew, this was happening.

You walked back to him, his smile small but meeting his eyes and closed the door after yourself, taking his waiting hand.

* * *

A while and a comfortable Uber trip later tucked under Bucky’s muscular, leather-clad arm, he led you into a small, dimly-lit bar. Not overly crowded, warm lighting on the small tables and behind the amber bottles on the bar. Bucky gave the bartender a curt nod which was returned and took you to a corner table, dragging your stool nearer to him and keeping you close between his powerful thighs. He gently pushed your hair from your ear to nuzzle your ear and asked if you were feeling good.

Giving him a smile, you nodded. He gave a gentle, relieved sigh as a glass of whiskey and champagne was delivered to the table without ordering. You raised an eyebrow. “You text ahead our orders?” you joked.

“Nah,” Bucky smiled. “Poured a drink or two here once or twice before bouncing and shit. I am not a good bartender,” he bit back a laugh. If you knew Bucky was a bartender here, you’d have been here every damn night. 

“Good tips?” 

He blushed a little. “They weren’t bad.”

Sure they weren’t.

“So, there’s this Italian place I want to take you to after this. Little hole in the wall, have known the family since I was a kid. Like the kinda food Nonna would fill you to the brim with and you’d have to be rolled home.”

You laughed at his analogies, it sure sounded sweet. You didn’t think Bucky as a restaurant kind of guy but if there was one thing you knew, he was truly full of surprises. “Sounds great,” you told him as he raised his glass and handed you the champagne flute.

“Cheers, sweetface. To a successful first date,” he told you softly, his glass meeting yours and giving you a gentle kiss. 

God, you loved this Bucky. This soft, tender conundrum of a man who mixed in the wrong crowd. It was times like this that you completely forgot the MC even existed. It was times like this you thought even Bucky did too. You got lost in each other – it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last time. You thrived on it.

He groaned against your lips in complaint and turned his face away. “Fuck me,” he muttered. “One sec,” he told you, adjusting his posture to pulled his phone from his pocket and without looking at the caller or text, he switched it to silent. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said, trying to hide the lie that wanted to betray your voice. He was never truly off, wouldn’t be a date with the MC, you supposed. You’d known this for a while, but it still frustrated you. It didn’t matter what you were doing – the MC were never far away. Interrupting snuggles on the couch with wine and TV, waking you in the dead of night, other adult pleasures. There was always something pressing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, you know that.”

You gave a shy grin and he thumbed your lower lip affectionately before taking a comical sip of his whiskey.

“Hit me.”

“Would you ever consider leaving the MC?”

And there it was, out in the open as you started at each other in the low light of the bar. The light from the small tea light on the cocktail table flickered against his perfect skin and light stubble, making him handsomer. You didn’t realise it was possible. His jaw clenched and he swallowed, taking another sip. “I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it,” he confided. “It’s not like when I was a kid I wanted to grow up and be this person.”

You smoothed a hand down his cheek, cupping just under his ear reassuringly and he snuggled into your touch, eyes slipping closed for a half second.

“And I don’t want it to consume the rest of my life – I’ve seen lifers. You know, their wives and kids end up indoctrinated and they can’t get out because they don’t know anything else. I don’t want to bring others into this. I guess that kinda means I have a goal to get the fuck out some time. I just don’t know how easy it will be to actually… do so,” the last few words falling shy. Looking up, his eyes flashed and his smile was wide across this face again. “Why? You want me to leave and we run away together?”

It was your turn to sip your drink and whet your pallet, his words sounding so empty but you’d be lying if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind once or two hundred times. You knew Bucky was capable of more than this life. He was so incredibly smart, strong and the way he understood the world helped open you up to the possibilities of more as well - he was wasted in the MC. “You’d never do that,” you challenged him back. It was easier for banter instead of revealing your honest feelings. Who the fuck ever wants to hear that? Certainly not you and you assumed, less him.

“Ask me,” he said, his face raw, almost begging for you to do so.

“I’m not going to dare you to leave the MC,” you forced a laugh, hoping to break the tension that was swallowing the table. “If you want to leave the MC, that’s a decision only you can make.”

“Do you think I can turn my life around?” he continued, his voice low.

Sighed, you slouched a little, dropping your eyes. “Want me to be honest with you?”

He nodded, taking the end of your hair and twirling it around his long finger. “Tell me.”

“I don’t think the MC is you at all.”

He blinked a few times, remaining silent. He dropped the tendril and sipped his whiskey. “You may be right, sweetface. You may be right,” he caught the bartender’s eye and motioned for another round and sweet Jesus, did you both need it.

* * *

Bucky’s attention was waning. A few hours later, gnocchi porcini and the biggest serve of tiramisu settling well in your belly, it wasn’t a secret at the table that something heavy was on his mind. He’d been back and forth to the bathroom for what you assumed were opportunities to check his phone although you didn’t bother to ask. It was off-putting that just for one night, he truly couldn’t switch it all off. But you knew what you’d gotten into.

When he disappeared again, you checked your phone and hadn’t put it down when he returned. When he started speaking and you didn’t reply, when he cleared his throat and you didn’t look up, a tattoed hand wrapped around your wrist to lower the phone. “I’m back,” he said tersely.

“It’s cool – I geddit. MC business – ” you snapped as he shrugged, no excuses forthcoming. He knew you knew who it was and that something was up. “What?”

“I understand I’m being an asshole and I’m sorry for being so distracted. Some shit is going on back at the club and they want me there and I told them to handle it without me. Went down like a lead balloon.”

Heart sinking to your feet, you replied, “You gotta do what you gotta do. If this is the end of our night, so be it. But if this is what the norm is, maybe we just leave things as they are and go about our business without each other. I really like you, Bucky but I know I’ll always be second place to the MC,” you grabbed your bag. “I just don’t play the game to come in second,” you moved to your feet and gave Bucky a gentle kiss between his furrowed brows. “You’re off the hook,” you said, leaving him alone at the booth in the restaurant.

You were so sad, but were trying to keep your dignity in check, because a man like Bucky Barnes did not deserve your tears. Once outside, you booked an Uber and begged that 3 minutes in Manhattan actually meant it for once.

About 2 minutes and 57 seconds later, Bucky appeared at your side. Fate was never on your side, you thought keeping your eyes focused on the lookout for your driver. His tattoed palm snuck into yours and he kissed your temple, not at all hesitant to invade your personal space. “Cancel the car. We’re going back to Brooklyn. It’s time for you to meet the family.”


	9. Chapter 9

“ _The Black Widow_ ,” you spoke quietly and Bucky tucked you under his arm as you stood before the gentleman’s club, not nearly humoured by the red and black neon spider hovering above the doorway. “And here I was thinking we’d be heading to the MC. Boy, _was I wrong_.”

Bucky gave you a wry half-smile. “This is where most of our nights are spent,” he admitted as a few jovial men wandered past, laughing loudly as the lone security guard stopped them, shaking his head. You disregarded them, men all easily forgotten, distracted by ill thoughts of the ladies inside flaunting for Bucky’s attention, their outfits… and their outward sexuality that sometimes you were a little shy to exhibit to him. Fuck, now you were well and truly in your own head.

“What?!” one of the lads exclaimed. “I know Wanda is on tonight. I’m a regular on Wanda’s nights. She expects my tips. All of ‘em,” he howled, grabbing at his crotch suggestively to his friends who snickered and you were certainly repulsed now that they’d brought your attention back to their obscene antics. Basic.

“Family night tonight, boys,” the bouncer replied in his dark green army fatigues, nodding to Bucky. “He can explain it to you further if you don’t like my explanation.”

Bucky gave them a breezy wink before his face changed darkly and it was unlike anything you’d seen before. You had mentally blocked this part of Bucky’s life so often to now but it was all starting to make sense. SAA for the Avengers MC. He had a record, a history and as much as he pretends he’s an open book to you, he sheltered you from this part of his life and you did your best to ignore it - the danger, the violence and other less desirables.

He was the enforcer, not this guy taking up the wide bulk of the doorway. Bucky was strong, commanded respect whether it was out of fear or not and could put a hole in the face of the prettiest frat boy asshole.

“Come back tomorrow night, pal,” Bucky warned evenly. “I’m sure Wanda can get her tips elsewhere for the time being.”

“What about this one then?” one of the guy’s friends ask, nodding his head in your direction and you baulk back in response, a little repulsed - how did he think you’d respond? “Whatcha charge to grind on my dick for a while, little one?”

Bucky took a deep breath, pushing you protectively behind him. “You look like you wanna collect your teeth from the pavement,” he sneered. “Walk away, guy. For the sake of the veneers Daddy paid for.”

You lightly clutched to Bucky’s hips, hot under his leather, still a little taken back to be brought into the discussion. He reached and gave you a warm, gentle tattooed hand to hold, reminding you he knew exactly where you where and that he would not let anything happen to you. You believed him.

Scoffing, the lead dick sniped, “This place is fuckin’ bullshit anyway and the drinks suck,” he announced. “Come on, there are better titty bars than this shithole,” he said, his friends huffing with the same sick male bravado that they used when they knew they were about to have their faces rearranged but pretended were doing Bucky a favour by walking okay. Bucky gave them a pleasant smirk in return. They certainly were doing him a favour, last thing Bucky wanted was to have to have to deal with these cocks while you were around. Last thing he’d ever want to do was have in you in the firing line.

“Enjoy that, Buck?” the bouncer said with a small chuckle, giving you a friendly smile in greeting as you peeked out from behind Bucky’s broad back.

“Kinda miss turning away the big city fuckboys,” Bucky replied, shaking the bouncer’s hand. “Good night, Hulk?”

“Same old. Quiet, limited entry,” he said as Bucky nodded knowingly. “Nat is with Steve and Sam out back. But just warning you? Steve is like a bear with a fuckin’ headache tonight,” he warned.

With an appreciative nod, Bucky pulled you back to face him, his strong hands sliding around your wrists, keeping your focus directly on his handsome face. “Now, I know the shit inside is going to be a bit confronting,” he began. “And if you’re nervous, I get that. Just stay close to me, okay? This isn’t how we saw tonight going and fuck knows, you deserve better, but the quicker I clean this shit up, the quicker we can get you back to Manhattan, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you decided to trust him. Oh, why you kept doing that, you simply didn’t know but here you were, standing before Nat’s strip club and knowing that this was the first real taste of Bucky’s life that you’d been privvy to – you were strangely eager to see what waited before you on the other side of the burly bouncer to whatever was lurking inside. “There booze inside?”

“Drinks on the expensive side,” Bucky reported. “And I have it on shitty authority that they suck,” he joked.

“You’re making me buy my own drinks?” you huffed as Hulk moved aside with a chuckle to let you both in. “This night is officially trash,” you mocked as Bucky rolled his eyes, a playful grin gracing his handsome features.

Pushing you against the wall in the entrance way, neon casting from green to red across your faces, Bucky kissed you roughly. “If the drinks are that bad, I’ll make it up to you any goddamn way you please, okay?”

You forced a frown. “This is our first date at a men’s club – trust me when I say this, Buck. You will certainly be making this up to me in some way tonight.”

Cackling, Bucky pulled you under his arm again and led you into the club. The pulsating rhythm of Ed Sheeran’s BLOW erupted in the club, a woman no older than 21 drifting out to the stage, red her colour from hair to her heels. Enigmatic, demanding attention, face blank as she palmed at the pole before her. “Wanda,” you figured as Bucky nodded his head. “So, this is who all the drama is about,” you told him knowingly as he gave a single nod in return and led you through the throng of black leather vests - _kuttes_ , you corrected yourself (you assumed the clientele were mostly club members tonight) towards the back, a VIP area hidden heavily by security. 

“Thor, Barton,” Bucky muttered above the bass and they moved aside from him. You noticed the Avengers MC patch against the black leather similar to Bucky’s, various panels of rank adorning them before you were greeted by a tall blonde man, smile hidden behind a woolly beard and he greeted Bucky with a bro-hug. They chatted briefly before he looked at you, chewing his lip, amused. It was hard to ignore the attention he demanded - tall, broad and a wicked smile that if he was clean cut, you’d confuse for All-American. _President_ , his patch boasted.

“This is not a first date,” he told you, extending a hand. “I’m Steve. I’m the guy who ruined your night.”

“Oh, it’s not just tonight,” you fired back tongue in cheek, the honesty in the joke not lost on him.

He raised an eyebrow, biting back a megawatt grin and he look at Bucky. “Not scared to shit talk.”

“Definitely not scared to shit talk,” Bucky agreed, a little proud glint in his dark blue eyes.

“I like that,” he turned back to you. “I know – I’m a dick. But we don’t exactly run your normal 9 to 5 here,” Steve explained grimly. “It’s nice to finally meet you though. This guy?” he pointed at Bucky. “Smitten. Embarrassingly so.”

Bucky dropped his eyes, failing to hide his blush. “And that asshole was Steve,” he told you before guiding you to make the rounds to the rest of the family as they gave him the same grief about bringing his old lady on the worst first date ever. You paid particular attention to the ranks: Fury, quiet with little to say (Founder), Wilson who enjoyed bickering with Bucky like little old women (Vice-President), Barton, smaller and a little lax and Thor, the biggest of them all, tall, with long blonde hair and far too pretty to be caught up with this crowd (Member). 

You had to wonder how and where Nat could possibly fit in. But she certainly had her nails in the club somehow and as if he was reading your mind, Bucky nodded to a platinum blonde woman in the corner, her hour-glass figure giving the girls on stage a real run for their money. Nat, you figured, her attention on the those at the bar. Barely raising an eyebrow, the beefy blonde bouncer moved to another direction to escort a loud-mouth guy out. Drunk and waving a wad of cash in the air, it floated in a dozen different directions as Thor removed him swiftly. That was power on both behalves.

“Prospect,” Bucky murmured and then you were before her. You were almost mesmerised.

She looked up with a tight-lipped smile. “I’m Nat, nice to finally meet you. Bucky has been on about you since the night he almost got you arrested,” she continued baiting him. Poor guy looked like the ground would swallow him up, you loved it. You’d seen him blush more tonight than in the whole time you’d known him. 

“Oh,” you replied, a little taken back by her beauty. You felt like a real deer in the headlights, you wanted to stop staring at her but it was near impossible – you understood why she managed this kind of establishment for the MC. It would be easy enough to lure the clientele in with that face and body, hire a team that were as endearing to the eye and hey presto, just how many singles could rain over you? Or as Bucky explained, just another way to ‘bankroll the Club’.

“Can see why,” Nat added, chewing her bottom lip, her eyes closing into a gentle gaze, studying you. “You failed to mention the legs for days, Barnes. You’d be perfect up there,” she nodded over her shoulder towards Wanda and you weren’t sure to be flattered or scandalised. You considered both as Bucky waved his hands in a ‘no, no, no, not happening’ fashion.

“These legs stay covered,” he retorted. “Or wrapped around my head when deemed appropriate.”

Nat broke into a smile as you almost died at Bucky’s comment. “Just kidding, kid,” she lightly grazed your shoulder with her silky soft fingers. “We all know Bucky doesn’t like to share.”

Bucky tenderly took your chin in his calloused palms. “Don’t listen to any of these assholes – they are thoroughly enjoying making my life hell.”

You had to giggle, dropping your gaze. “It’s a fun past time,” you shrugged as he smirked, rolled his eyes and Steve and Sam joined you again. “I didn’t see that little prick on the way in. He with one of the girls?”

“Pepper is getting him all excited as we speak,” Nat replied. “Stark’s packed in his security as well.”

“Saw Happy on the way in,” Bucky confirmed as all the words between the three of them were lost on you. You focused your attention on Wanda, not wanting to appear nosy of Bucky’s conversation but it was hard when you heard key words like “cash”, “running guns” and “coke” mixed in an out throughout and you inadvertently shuddered.

“The deal is going down tonight,” Steve said sternly. “I’ve had enough of Stark dictating how this deal will happen – for him to bring his business to our Club tonight? It’s just an insult.”

“He has something on us to be so motherfuckin’ ballsy,” Sam said decisively. 

Bucky sighed, rubbing his face and muttering an “Okay. Let me just get her outta here, okay?”

Her? You, you realised as a cold chill traced down your spine as Wanda finished her dance, still in her outfit and looking like having her legs crossed around the pole as she hung upside came far too naturally to her as cash rained in the direction of the stage. She gracefully flipped down, barely gave an acknowledgement to the wily MC members in the audience and drifted off stage as gracefully as she entered it. A few younger girls wandered past to collect the notes that littered the stage.

“I’ll see to it she gets home safe,” Nat spoke up as Bucky gave you an apologetic tight-lipped grin and turned his back to resume his tête-à-tête with Steve and Sam. “Come on,” Nat told you softly, linking an arm through yours, leading you from the VIP and past the audience, no one daring embarrassing catcalls but you felt eyes on you, it was hard to ignore. “Pretend they aren’t there,” she told you. “They’re just curious of what they don’t know,” she explained, a sly grin barely gracing her porcelain features. “But mostly they’re just taking in the new blood.”

It felt comical, but you wanted to gulp and you suddenly feel very aware of Bucky’s absence. You checked him over your shoulder and saw him looking back at you. He gave you a light wink and turned away again. She guided you towards a door to the side of the stage, opening it to lead you through, about the only door in the spot not covered with a burly security guard of some sort. The light in the hallway was bright, all traces of a gentleman’s club on the other side gone as her heel’s clicked across the tiles.

“Not gonna lie to you, sweetheart. Tonight probably wasn’t the most ideal night for your boyfriend to bring you out to his MC’s strip club,” she murmured, her voice soft like velvet and if there was a trap to fall into for Natalia Romanova, you were well and truly stuck. She stopped suddenly and touched your wrist. “He’s in love with you. And I can see just from your short interactions tonight, that you may feel the same too,” she held your face up to avoid ducking her scrutiny with her palm. “But not all is as it seems, _дорогая_. Don’t fall too hard.”

You were joined suddenly by a tall blonde woman, her demure face unreadable as she told you to follow her. “Be gentle, Sharon. Barnes likes this one,” Nat called gently after you both as Sharon lead you to what you imagined was the backdoor. The cool night air made you shiver a little as a man ducked into the driver’s side of a dark Mercedes and she opened the back passenger door for you to scoot into. “Take her to her apartment, Pietro. Step on it,” Sharon instructed as she slammed the car door and the car sped through the night.

* * *

_дорогая - expensive, dear_


	10. Chapter 10

You stared at the ceiling and watched the fan continue its slow, monotonous rotation above you – it felt like time had stood still. You hadn’t seen or heard word of Bucky in about a week and for him, while it wasn’t _entirely_ alarming, you’d tried calling a few times and only got a dead end with the repetitive recorded message, “This number could not be connected” so you assumed he’d probably had gotten a new number and would contact you when he could.

It didn’t confuse you any less though. You just weren’t sure what was going on – it seemed like things were on the way up for you both. Hell, you’d had a wonderful date, minus the last part of it. You’d met the MC, dubious characters they were or not, they’d more or less welcomed you with open arms. It was reassuring, you had seen too much TV of MC’s and gangs in total shoot ‘em up, drugs, danger-type situations. But this crew just didn’t give you that vibe.

And for a smart person, you certainly felt like a dickhead for thinking that everything was an open door for you. Bucky had admitted without saying a word that bad shit went down and he would protect you against it no end. You had learned that even though he’d tell you absolutely anything you needed to know, it was probably best to just leave sleeping dogs lie. He didn’t want to scare you and you were in too deep to want to be scared off.

Rolling over, you forced your eyes shut, begging for sleep but your brain just continued its nighttime overdrive.

Everything felt pretty empty: your bed, your apartment… your heart. Argh, your fucking heart. How that asshole had weaved his way in there as a permanent fixture: going from bad boy, good fuck to warm body to snuggle at night to – yes, to the man you loved. And the ‘love’ part made everything so much goddamn worse.

At some point after midnight, your exhaustion caught up with you and off to a restless sleep you drifted.

* * *

The misery continued as you slept through your alarm the next morning. A damned Monday no less commencing in absolute chaos as you had the world’s fastest shower, slapped on some ill-performed make up and tamed your hair (impossible) before you zipped to the kitchen, grabbed some fruit and keys before jamming to the door. Whipping it open, you screamed. “Jesus Christ!” you exclaimed, clutching at your heart as you found yourself face to face with a clean-faced Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson to his left. “I think you’ve shaved 12 years off my life!” you accused, slumping gracelessly back against the doorframe.

Barely bringing a smile to his lips, Steve replied, “Sorry. You opened the door before I could knock,” he retracted his hand from knocking position.

“How’d you get in?”

“Some folk were leaving as we walked in,” Sam explained, pulling a badge from his pocket. “This tends to get you in most places too.”

A slow realisation dawned on you as you read the three letters on the badge: **FBI**. “Bucky’s not here,” you stood to your height and sniffed, not sure why you immediately went into protective mode. Poor life choices, you had put it down to. “Aren’t you too supposed to know where he is?”

“He’s fine,” Steve tried, raising palms in hopes to calm you or for his own defence – you weren’t really sure. But it was falling into place, not at an obvious pace but clearly there was some kind of undercover operation going on and you weren’t sure where Bucky stood or where it put you. “Bucky’s been shot,” Steve said evenly as you felt the blood drain from your face and could swear you were seeing white spots before your eyes – the ground seemed welcome and Sam reached out to wrap an arm around your midsection before you greeted it, face first.

“Let’s get her inside, Cap. She should sit down while she hears this,” Sam suggested, lightly guiding you back inside to the couch where he eased you down then going to the kitchen for supplies while Steve closed over the door softly and stopped before you, the coffee table your buffer, hands on slim hips, his stance wide. He tried to read you but you were giving him little while you felt so poorly.

“Take a sip,” Sam urged as he handed you the glass and at that point, you’d wanted to do anything to defy him but took a small gulp. It was more refreshing than you wanted to admit, giving you strength as you looked up to Steve and enunciated, “Tell me everything.”

He nodded and sniffed. “Night you came to the club,” Steve pursed his lips. “Things went sour. Bucky got caught up with some of Stark’s guys, got a bit wild.”

“What is your definition of ‘wild’?”

“He was caught in the crossfire.”

You sprung to action, wanting to charge over to table to scratch Steve’s goddamn eyeballs out as Sam caught you, himself surprised at your strength as you lashed and thrashed. “You were supposed to be his friend – you were supposed to keep him safe!” you yelled as Steve nodded, dropping his head.

“You’re right and I don’t deny that.”

“Rest assured, Bucky is okay,” Sam said lowly, sympathetically, touching your wrist to sit you to settle a little. “He was taken in for surgery to have the bullets removed. He’s a bit of a pro when it comes to taking heat in that left shoulder. He’s going to be able to go home in a week or so. But right now, he’s hating the food and wanting to see you.”

You brain was trying to add and deduct just where the hell Bucky fit in all this. “Is Bucky a…” you could only see Steve’s badge flashing before your eyes. “ _An agent_? Like you guys.”

“We’re FBI,” Steve confirmed. “Sam, me, Buck, Nat. Nat and Bucky were assigned to the Russian taskforce a coupla years back, completely immersed themselves – they were working with the Russians to get to Stark.”

“And you two?” you didn’t mean it to come out so crudely, but you felt you were owed the time to give Steve and Sam some shit.

“Sam and I have been undercover for a few years. Had to get deep within the MC, get Stark interested in working with us, give Bucky and Nat the time to make the Russian connections. But that’s a story Bucky would probably prefer to tell you.”

“Right,” you said slowly, wishing the water you were sipping was gin. Your life just seemed so fucking unrecognisable right now. Who were you? How were you stupid enough to get yourself involved in this fucking madness?

“So, Bucky lied to me,” you stated. “From the very beginning, he lied. And everyone played the game to make it all the more believable.”

“It wasn’t a game – Stark is big in illegal weapons. He started importing drugs from the Russians – ”

“You both need to leave,” you said lowly, steadily. Sternly. And Sam and Steve listened, both offering you soundless apologies and before taking their leave, closing the apartment door after them.

It was supposed to be a workday, but you weren’t sure how you could even imagine going in now. You moved to your feet and shuffled your bedroom, kicked off your shoes and buried yourself, still dressed, under the covers. You slept, you don’t know for how long, you’d probably lost days. But you didn’t care. You just needed to avoid the real world. Because right now, it was the last place you wanted to try and exist in.

* * *

You woke up sometime later that evening. It was dark again and your time sleeping was continually broken up with the images of what your subconscious imagined to be Bucky shot looked like, Bucky writhing in agony, Bucky armed and in action – but every time you finally saw his face, you’d wake yourself up.

Wiping the corner of your mouth and blinking a few times to get your eyes to adjust, you found your phone and saw some concerned texts from your co-workers. A ‘wtf?!’ voicemail from your boss and a couple of message from an unknown number.

Scrolling to it, you opened it and read, ‘Sweetface, I know Steve and Sam have spoken to you and I know you probably hate me. I understand. But I would like to see you. Explain things. Sam said he left the hospital details in the kitchen. I know you’re feeling betrayed, and I would be too. I never meant fall for you. I should not have brought you into our mess. We were so close to ending it all and then I saw you… and you know the rest. Just know every kiss, touch, every word – it was all real. I just was pretending to be someone else at work, but you got Bucky. I love you, please forgive me xo’

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you hissed, blocking the number and tossing the phone away to the bedside table. You didn’t need his sob story today – he’d led you on, made you fall for him when it was the last thing you ever wanted to do and brought you into a dangerous situation.

Wandering to the kitchenette, you had to wonder how blinded by Bucky you were to completely misread the situation. It just didn’t make any sense. He seemed so genuine.

How had this man turn your life upside down in such indescribable ways and now you learn that it was all fake? But if it was, why did he always make you feel so real? So alive. Like every nerve-ending was sparking when he touched you. How could his first smile in the morning make you feel like butterflies were wrecking havoc in your belly? When he told you something some otherworldly intelligent, you wondered how did a smart, handsome man like this get involved with an MC?

And it brought you back to the start: because none of it was ever real, that’s why. It was all a game that you were an unwitting pawn in.

You poured yourself a double shot of his favourite whiskey and went to sit on the couch, now noticing you were still in the morning’s work wear. Stripping yourself of your blouse and slacks, you fell into the pillows in the seat Bucky used to sit him, his warmth still enveloping you there from his cologne sticking to the fabric. He had changed the way you looked at everything – your home, your sexuality, _you_.

He had changed you in ways you never imagined anyone could. And for that, you hated him.


	11. Chapter 11

Standing before Bucky’s hospital room, you weren’t surprised to be greeted by your first name from the armed security before it. “Hi,” you said in return.

“Agent Barnes is in rehab currently. But he said if you turned up at any time, he was to be contacted immediately – ”

Holding your hands up, begging for calm and quiet, you replied, “No, no, don’t bother him.”

“I can take you down there if you prefer?” a smooth female voice said from behind you. Spinning around, Natasha was approaching you, a far cry from the last time you saw her in her almost-Madam garb. Red hair braided down her back, black jeans, black sweater, black leather jacket, heavy black boots, weapon on her hip and her badge draped around her neck. Black was clearly her thing.

You forced yourself to your full height as the corner of her lip quirked. It didn’t matter how big you made yourself, she had the ability to make you feel about two-feet tall with something as minute as a quiver of her plump ruby lips. It wasn’t hard to understand how Natasha found herself in her previous work-related role, she was demure yet terrifying. 

“Come along,” she ushered, her cool hand slithering into the crook of your arm, leading you away towards the elevator bay. Allowing you in first, she pressed for the floor and the doors closed behind you.

“So I imagine you have a lot of questions,” she murmured, taking her phone from her pocket and perusing it, so non-chalant that if it wasn’t for the two of you in the lift, you’d wonder if she was even speaking to you at all. You hated vagueness and Natasha cherished it in spades.

It was almost creepy, always hiding in plain sight and never knowing what her next move was. “I’ve got nothing to ask you,” you reminded her pointedly. “I’m not here for you. Or Steve or Sam. I’m just here to make sure Buck is okay and then I’ll be on my way.”

Raising her eyebrow a point, she gave a single nod. “I understand you’re upset. If I were in the same position, I would have hung, strung and quartered Barnes by now. He knew, while undercover, getting involved with a civilian was always going to be frowned upon but if there’s one thing James is notorious for, it isn’t exactly by playing by the rules.”

“No shit,” you muttered in reply as the elevator opened and Natasha slammed it shut with her closed fist again.

“He’s also my partner and one of the best men I’ve ever met. The last person in that rehab room should be him. I’ll never forgive myself for him getting hurt and if you’re just here to make him miserable, please know he has beaten himself up well enough over the last few weeks since this happened and you berating him won’t help. So if you’re planning to give him a piece of your mind, maybe we should take this lift back to the lobby and you forget he even existed.”

“Don’t you think that’s what I’ve been trying to do?” You hissed back, trying your all to intimidate this tiny woman who scared you no end. “I don’t want to be here. Frankly, I don’t know how I got here. This whole experience is so fucking surreal that forgetting all of you didn’t exist is actually what I’d prefer.”

“I know Bucky better than most, better than Steve and Sam - “ she tried.

“You and I know Bucky very differently,” you scalded her, voice even and for once, Natasha remained silent, so you continued. “He loves me, and I love him. And honestly, yes, I want to finish the goddamn job because I’m so fucking angry at him – he lied to me from the moment I met him. You all did, but he in ways I never thought and I fell for that idiot. So if I want to give him a deserved motherfucking earful, I think I’m quite entitled to do so.”

Pushing past Natasha, you pressed the lift doors open and wandered out, leaving her a little surprised even if her face would never ever show it. You spied the various rooms to the floor, various patients in different states of rehabilitiation before coming to the door where you found Bucky and someone working on the reflexes in his hand. He was bandaged up, his dark hair pulled away from his face but he was straining to do something as simple as flex and extend, you almost felt bad for him. Remaining silent, you watched while Bucky grew frustrated and smacked his water cup across the room, the doctor he was working with giving Bucky a few quiet words as he relaxed. Reading those smooth, full lips, you understood, “Lemme try again,” and the process re-started.

“Can I help you?” an orderly asked, surprising you.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “I know him, I just didn’t want to interrupt while he’s working.”

“Understand,” he replied, using their access pass to unlock the door, both occupants alerted to your presence. “There you go,” the orderly said thoughtfully, thinking he was being helpful. _He was not._

“Hi,” you said, a bit like a dear in headlights as you felt the blood flush from your face, now gently simmering in your belly with the butterflies.

“Sweetface,” Bucky said, standing up, a glance of hopeful recognition on your face before he corrected himself to your name. “What are you doing here?”

After a beat, you admitted, “I really don’t know.”

“Barnes, let’s finish up here,” Bucky’s offsider tried.

“Shut up, Strange,” Bucky replied harshly as Strange blinked off the reply and making himself busy on his tablet. “I’m glad to see you.”

“This isn’t a friendly visit,” you reminded him gently. “I just wanted to make sure you were… you know. _Okay_ ,” you stayed close to the door, fearing if he came one single step closer you’d hurl yourself at him, pepper him in kisses and tell him everything would be all right.

But it wasn’t all right. You were hurt, cheated and worst of all, you couldn’t be sure for one second what was real and what was fake with Bucky. You wanted to believe the feelings were real, but who was this man? He wasn’t the SAA from an outlaw motorcycle group – he was the absolute opposite, a Federal agent. He was supposed to be one of the good guys, trying to bring down a drug and weapons syndicate that only got him hurt. He’d skimmed a fine line, even you knew that. You’d found out in the TV news a week or so earlier that Stark had been taken alive as well as a few of his henchmen, but the media was getting harder and harder to believe.

Then again so was your real life so your judgement was more impaired than you really figured at this point.

With a gentle bob of his head, Bucky replied, “I’m okay,” he flexed his left fist a little and winced. “Nothing I can’t handle. sweet talkin’ the nurses into the good painkillers.”

“We’ve had to restrain him several times,” Strange spooke up, eyeing you.

“Can it, Strange,” Bucky warned. “I don’t remember anyone asking your opinion.”

“It’s here if you need it, Barnes,” Strange retorted. These two clearly weren’t friends, you realised as he helped Bucky put his arm back in its sling and started clearing the desk of his belongings. He said a curt goodbye and urged Bucky to make sure he kept up his rehab exercises until their next appointment and he left at the door you weren’t guarding with your life.

“That ball of joy was my surgeon, but he seems like some kind of witch doctor sometimes,” Bucky snickered, glad to see the back of him. “You look good.”

“I look like shit, I have barely slept in weeks,” you snapped back, hoping he’d hear in your voice that it was because of him turning your life upside down that you were in the shape you were in.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Guess you’re here to give me shit? Trust me, I know I deserve it. I am an asshole,” He said. “I was undercover and I knew the consequences of dragging you into and I need to apologise – ” he took that step you were dreading and you took one back, your back hitting the door with an embarrassing crunch as it stayed locked. “You okay?”

“I’m not shot,” you answered. “Look, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And you truly seem to be, so I’m relieved for you. But I’m going to go. I just needed to make sure with my own eyes that you were fine.”

“I’m not fine,” he almost scoffed, his right arm reaching to run his long fingers through his hair. “Everything is a mess but the only thing I give half a shit about is you. And you hate me.”

Silent for a moment, you wondered if he could hear the thrum of your heartbeat gagging to escape your chest. “I don’t hate you, Bucky. Everything I knew was a lie. I don’t even know you.”

“You know me,” he pressed, moving to sit on the table. He knew you didn’t want him near and he had no choice but to respect it. “You know I love you – you know I’m in love with you. You think if I wasn’t I would have just left things after the first night we met? I knew what I was risking. If I had any idea if would all turn to shit like this, I want to believe I could have walked away, but you have this power over me. I just couldn’t seem to stay away, and if I wasn’t being basically held against my will at the moment, I would have already come to see you.”

“But you sent your boys instead.”

“Trust me, I didn’t want Steve and Sam to go. I wanted you to hear everything from me. You know, so I could lay it out straight for you. I could have and probably should have killed those idiots – I’ve considered it on more than a few occasions. But they thought you were worried, and I knew you were.”

“They thought they were helping?”

“They’re miserable with women, they would be the last people I’d ever send to do my bidding,” he tried to joke and against your judgement, you failed to bite back your smile. And god, if Bucky’s whole face didn’t light up at the prospect of your façade falling, if only momentarily. And by God, you’d missed his face crinkle into that bashful grin he had.

You looked at him, you truly drank him in and under you gaze, he looked away, feeling the brunt of your stare and the first time it made him uncomfortable. Or maybe it always had, he had just masked it so goddamn well that now he no longer had to hide it, you could fully see the man before you. He didn’t assert the same dominance over you suddenly, he didn’t make you as weak in the knees. You kind of pitied him and the situation he had found himself in.

“How do I get you to forgive me, sweetface? You’re so far away from me and I don’t have a damn clue what you’re thinking. You’re so guarded. I know I have so much to make up for. So, so much. But I need you to know, I love you, baby,” he said and you rubbed your tired face. It was all so much. Couldn’t he see it your way? How could he think it was all so simple and it’s all he fine in the end?

You really were so different. So far nothing had brought you closer except maybe the side of the law you were on. “I don’t know you. I want to…” you told him apprehensively. “Move forward,” you clarified. “But it’s not that black and white.”

“Then let’s go back to the start,” he suggested, his face softening. “We will go on a date, I’ll take you somewhere nice - “

“I don’t need the fancy stuff, Buck.”

“Then tell me, sweetface,” he sighed gently. “What do you need?”

“I just need you.”

Bucky stood up, a gentle smile daring to cross his face. “Well, you’ve got that, sweetface. You’ve got alla’ me and more.”

You took a step forward and his timid stance turned rigid. And as you took the next steps, he started to meet you until you were flushed against him, in his strong arms, trying carefully not to hurt him and he gripped you so tightly, it almost hurt. Not bad for a guy with one arm he could use to keep you near.

“It feels so good to hold you,” he breathed, his chin resting on your hair. “I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again,” he confided in whisper. He nuzzled against you, his palm gently cupping your chin to bring your gaze to his.

Eyes soft, smile gentle, he was so new to you. But you loved this man and even if it meant going back to the start, you would both have to try. Feelings like these didn’t come along everyday. “One thing though?”

“My God, anything.”

“I want to know everything. What’s real, what’s not. Small things, like your favourite colour and food. Do you like concerts - “

He cut you off with a high-pitched giggle. “I have got so much time to tell you everything about me. And in turn, I want to know everything about you too.”

“Time will tell,” you teased as he chewed his lip and grinned. “You gonna kiss me yet?”

“I deserve a motherfucking medal for holding out so long to now to do it.”

“Bucky?” You rolled your eyes. He hummed, his train of thought interrupted. “Just shut up and kiss me.”


	12. Chapter 12

Distantly giving your coffee order to the bored barista in your favourite little haunt close to work, you went for your purse to find the few dollars to pay. 

You were exhausted, it had been a rough night - you’d gotten into your own head and found yourself tossing and turning all hours, drifting to sleep about half an hour prior to your work alarm going off. Worse for wear was an understatement.

Bucky was released from hospital sometime the week before and bunking on Sam’s couch until something more permanent became available, which he was _hating_. You’d learned from the numerous irritated texts from Bucky that he and Sam certainly shared a love/hate-type relationship and could annoy each other from 0-60 in a millisecond but it had also showed you how deeply they actually cared about the other and knew the other’s little nuances so well. 

It wasn’t a secret to suggest he’d hinted wanting to see you a lot more but you knew he needed time to heal so you kept a proper distance, although not seeing him made you crave and ache just as desperately. Alas, why you were awake most of the night. 

You texted each other constantly, to the point you felt your workload was taking a backseat but it was something new in your relationship, learning his quirks. He actually loved memes and was constantly bombarding your inbox with silly little oddities (something you never expected from the man who previously wouldn’t send a text from the burner he used whilst working for the MC). When you spoke on the phone, he was quiet and unassuming, he wanted to hear what you had to say, even if it was about the co-worker that had it in for you. He would offer a kind word, pass along some sage advice and you could get over the day’s bullshit. As infuriating as he could make you when your mind wandered back to the past, he also had a way to make your heart rejoice in the quickest of times, giving you hope again.

But, as you repeatedly reminded yourself, it felt like the early stages of falling deeply for someone again. Rather, falling for someone _new_. A few weeks back, you thought you knew all you needed to know about James Barnes, MC SAA. Now it was like going through a death and meeting a whole other person who shared Bucky’s voice, his laugh and made you so fucking confused - it wasn’t supposed to be so hard. Bucky was completely foreign to you and now you had to learn all about how he operated, what made intrinsically… _him -_

You train of thought was interrupted as the barista cleared his throat, still awaiting the cash as he smacked the coffee before you and a little spillage to bring you back to Earth and repeating the amount due. Giving a half thankful/bashful grin, you found your paused hand in your purse as an arm extended before you, waving your efforts away.

“I’ve got it,” the man beside you said pleasantly. “Please.”

Frowning in surprise, you politely declined. “No thank you - ”

“No, on me. Anything for Mrs Barnes,” the man added as you looked up, his face shaded by the rose-coloured glasses he wore, a gentle smirk gracing his handsome features as he put a generous wad of cash on the bench, covering the whole cafe’s drinks and the staff’s daily tips. 

“Barnes?” you repeated. “That’s not my name.” 

“Barnes didn’t put a ring on it?” he man gently chuckled. “What a fool,” he said to the bustling man behind him. “I can’t believe he would even let you outta his sight.”

“Do I know you?” you asked, completely baffled at the situation unravelling before you.

“ _Accused weapons importer and drug lord, Tony Stark, has made the $1m bail today -_ ” the reporter on the TV said above you as you looked to the man offering to buy your coffee.

“Accused,” he scoffed. The man extended his hand. “Tony Stark. This is my good friend, Happy,” he thumbed over is shoulder as you felt your limbs give out, the coffee in your hands falling from your trembling hands, splashing into a wild puddle around your boots. “Clean up aisle one,” Tony teased in a sing-song voice as the bored barista sighed, his day getting worse. Tony gave his attention back to you, his palm covering your elbow and easily guiding you towards the door. “No need to make a scene, sweetface. That’s what he calls you. Sweetface?” Tony warned, terribly casually. “Makes sense, you are a true beauty. Got a good eye, _that Bucky Barnes_ ,” he spat the last couple of words as the burly man moved before you and opened the door to a car out front. “Get in.”

Scared that if you didn’t do what was said, a scene would cause a lot more pain than required and did as you were told, Tony sliding in beside you and Happy scooting to the front. Hands shaking, you didn’t dare look at him but you could feel the heat of Tony’s gaze as Happy sped away, a woman in the front passenger seat turning to face you with a cell phone pointed at your face.

“Friday, dear? Are we rolling?” Tony asked, adjusting his posture to pull his gun from his hip and checking if it was loaded as she nodded.

“Yes, boss,” she told him with a soft Irish accent.

“Wonderful,” he said, moving closer to you and knotting a palmful of your hair through his fingers and the gun, illicit it a pained gasp from you. “Hey Barnes, see this a familiar face? You want her back in one piece, you come get her. Bring your friends and we can dance. We gotta finish this shit once and for all - ”

Panicked, you begged, “Bucky, please? Help me!”

“Aww,” Tony said in mock adoration as you felt the blunt cool steel against the back of your head, Tony quietening you once and for all.

* * *

“When did you get the video?” Natasha demanded, bursting into Sam’s apartment, a selection of weapons already strapped to her Kevlar, the yellow of the FBI emblazoned on the front. 

“I called you as soon as I received it,” Bucky replied, pacing the room, his left arm tensing and flexing as he felt for the strength in it, a sting of his recent wounds giving him more life than pain. It’s strength nowhere near where he needed it to be to go out there and find you alone, but he’d be fucked if anyone thought he was going to sit on the bench for this. Stark had made it personal and now Bucky wouldn’t stop until Tony Stark was leaving in a bodybag and anyone else who got in his way. 

“And Steve? Sam?”

“In some ass-kissing meeting in the City with the suits,” Bucky reported. “I can’t trust them on this, Nat. I need someone that will let me get dirty when I find him.”

A curt smile rose to Nat’s far features. “You’re fucking kidding yourself if you think for one second I’m going to let you come with me.”

“Don’t make me hold this over you, Romanov.”

“I know we’re a team, but you’re a liability.”

“Remember who you’re talking to. I taught you everything you know.”

“Yet here I am at maximum capacity,” she replied. “I’ll get your girl, Barnes. Just stay here,” Nat replies curtly.

“He wants me.”

“And he knows you’re fucking stupid enough to give him that. Reckless your MO.”

“Only when orders are utter bullshit,” Bucky snickered.

Nat softened. “So let me take care of this. You’re too invested… what good you gonna do that girl if the next time she sees you is in a morgue?”

Bucky rubbed his weary features, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s made it personal.”

“He has, but I think it was a little personal before this,” Nat said with a light tease. 

Bucky remained silent, strapping his knife to his thigh. Standing to his full height and towering over Natasha, he reminded her sharply, “Stark is out there, begging’ for me to kill him. I will end this and I’ll end this tonight. You’re either with me or standing in my way, Nat. What’s it gonna be?” 

Her lip quirked amused. “You and I both know the answer to that one, Barnes,” she replied, following Bucky’s long strides to the door almost in a run.

Stopping, Bucky gripped Natasha’s forearm and sighed. “Call it in.”

She nodded, sighing. “I already did. Steve and Sam are on standby.” 

Nodding her out of the apartment first, Bucky swore. Why was he not surprised? 

* * *

_God, there he was, straddling his motorbike. You drank him in: Bucky’s scuffed black boots balancing carefully against chrome as he pushed a stray lock of dark hair from his face. It was criminal to be that good looking, you realised._

_Black jeans painted on his long, muscular legs to those powerful thighs, his black v-neck t-shirt tucked under a heavy belt low on his waist, revealing his shoulder to wrist tattoos down his left arm. Dark stubble, rosy cheeks and as you got closer, those deep blue (almost criminal) eyes hidden under the long, thick lashes._

_He was perfect._

_Looking up, his face changed to a fond recognition as he pulled himself off the motorbike, his hand extending for yours as he grasped you tight against his strong body into in a greeting hug. “Missed you, sweetface,” he whispered as you took in the scent of his cologne and knees buckled. His arm fastened to a vice grip around you. “Hey, hey. Careful there. You good?”  
_

_Body temperature skyrocketing, you pretended to look for a crack to pretend to have tripped on. None forthcoming. Fuck. “I’m good,” you reassured him._

_He leaned down, his lips pressed against you in a lingering kiss -_

“Ring a ding ding, sweetface,” Tony’s voice hissed, bringing you back to consciousness. “Party’s here!” 

You didn’t know what time it was in the darkened room. Enough to confuse you and make you wonder how long you’d been out. 5 minutes, 5 hours, you couldn’t be sure. Your head ached and eyes felt like they could fall out, but aside from that, you were in good health. Blinking as you felt yourself starting to come to, fear washed over you again. You tried jolting to your feet to scream for Bucky but found yourself shackled at the wrists and ankles to a steel chair, the noise of your voice falling short in your throat. Tony grinned, enjoying your panic.

Pointing at you, Tony chimed, “Now, as the guest of honour, don’t go play any silly games - you’ll only get yourself hurt and we don’t want that. You gotta be worth something to me. You know, collateral. If you will.” 

Swallowing, you tested your voice with a ferocious scream of Bucky’s name as Tony chuckled, shaking his head, amused. 

“Try again,” he urged. “Let’s see if the sound proofing in here was worth the money I spent on it.”

You felt the spit flick from your mouth and cheeks grow hot, your heartbeat and pulse bursting for escape under your skin as a feral scream for Bucky ripped through your body. As your adrenaline rose, you tried to move your body but barely made a rattle in the sturdy chair when a series of muted gunshots were took your attention.

Tony only gave you a thumbs up. “Don’t think he heard.” Parading to the bar, he asked if you wanted to join him but didn’t give him the dignity of a response. “Well, don’t say I didn’t ask,” he poured and tossed back the shot as the room suddenly exploded in sound, dust and velocity, knocking you from the chair, trapping you on the floor on the side. The sharp sound of chaotic close gunfire and anger. Sam’s voice, Steve’s voice. The sounds of glasses breaking and Tony’s pained screams.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TO DELETE.

**A/N -** Just a word, crew - I haven't left this. In fact, it's on my mind daily, riddling me with guilt that I haven't touched this IN MONTHS. Covid hit my city pretty heavily and we're only just making it out of some of the heaviest restrictions in the world that included working from home, night curfews, **masks anytime we left the house** (with little exceptions to remove them), all schools shut, internal state borders closed.

Mental health be damned, I hope to kick this off again in the New Year. 2021 - the year I finally complete this story... the bane of my existence.

Happy Holidays, enjoy the season. Know I am thankful for every single one of you that have taken the time to read this (except those who think your freedoms are impeded on for wearing a mask). 2021 probably won't be anyone's year either, but it cannot be worse than this one xo

**Author's Note:**

> Please subscribe if you wish to read more Notorious to come.


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